


Again, Tomorrow

by Celyan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Kidnapped Q, M/M, MI6 Cafe, Occult October Challenge, sp00qy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celyan/pseuds/Celyan
Summary: Q gets kidnapped (once is a coincidence, anything more is a pattern, right?), Bond gets handsy (but what else is new?) and new friends get made; such is the life of a certain branch head of MI-6.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started this around mid-October with a vague idea and even vaguer thoughts on what I really wanted to do with it, I just wanted to write something sp00qy for the Occult October over at the MI6 Cafe in Tumblr. I’m still not sure what exactly I expected to happen but well, the idea sort of ran away from me and this is what I ended up with. 
> 
> Big thanks to SandyWormbook for the beta, without your help this would have been rather a mess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Q gets kidnapped for the very first time.

**000.**

Of course, Q has thought about getting kidnapped before.

Idly, fleetingly, ponderingly; simply as a possible fate to befall him as the Quartermaster of MI-6. As a way to pass the time before falling asleep, in the middle of boring meetings, when 007 has been stubborn as ever and absolutely refused to follow clear instructions. In short, he has given it a thought or five, both as idle entertainment and as serious consideration. 

He has thought about what he should do and how to act - whether he should appear quiet and scared and vulnerable, or if he could deem it safe to show more of his wit and sarcasm, all depending on how his kidnappers carried themselves - and even noted down things he probably (as well as definitely) should leave unsaid. 

He has gone as far as considering the cold hard facts of the life of a kidnappee: how he’d be forced to wear the same clothes for possibly days at a time; the lack of any kind of personal hygiene products, anything from a toothbrush to shampoo and deodorant; the possibility of losing his glasses and thus not being able to properly rely on his eyesight; and how he’d be expected to not break down under torture and simply wait for MI-6 to rescue him. The need to destroy whatever MI-6 tech he’d have on his person has barely factored in on his calculations, though, what with it having been so fully ingrained into his psyche. 

Q has thought about it long and hard, then, in the hopes of being prepared for the worst. 

Still, he has not ever, not even in his wildest dreams, thought to prepare for what actually follows when he gets kidnapped for the very first time.

**001.**

It all starts very innocently, as if it is a perfectly normal day in the life of the Quartermaster of MI-6.

Q wakes up in the morning, feeds the cats and puts the kettle on. He reads the morning paper (he gets one delivered because some things simply are better enjoyed as physical copies, just like books and his beloved CD collection), eats his breakfast (tea and toast with strawberry jam, sweet and crunchy and tasting of memories half forgotten), and chooses a cardigan that he believes to clash most interestingly with the trousers he is wearing (because unlike certain agents think, Q is well aware of how he looks like and what he is wearing; he just maybe, perhaps, possibly likes to shock those prim and properly dressed menaces with his would-be appalling sense of fashion) before grabbing his messenger bag and leaving for work. 

Back at Q Branch, Q makes his way to his office to shed his outer layers and get ready to start the day. He checks his email and the statuses of the Double-O’s missions, he makes sure everyone else in his branch is up to speed, and he brews himself a cup of tea, this time forgoing Earl Grey in the favour of the spicy chai he got from one of the agents from India. It might have been Bond - probably was - but since Q gets souvenirs from practically all of the Double-O’s when he’s the one monitoring them, he cannot be absolutely certain. 

He does not tell Bond that, however. He has enough of a sense of self-preservation to know that such an admission would not go over with an agent like Bond, who unfailingly spends half of his missions flirting with him over the comms anyway. Possessiveness is a part of the package when dealing with Double-O’s, Q knows and has accepted this as his lot in life. And Bond's brand of possessiveness, well. Q still hasn't quite figured it all out, but what he does know is that he feels decidedly more safe when he knows that 007 is near. 

Well. When Bond has not just destroyed all of his tech, that is. Then what he feels is simply frustrated resignation. 

But that is neither here nor there.

His day continues as usual, filled with personal projects (his favourite part of the day), coding, tea, and several visits from Bond. The last is, for obvious reasons, only usual when Bond is actually in London. Today’s visits consist of episodes of flirting, a shared lunch in the form of sandwiches and crumpets, and an hour spent at the gym sparring and ending up underneath Bond so many times that Q has all but lost count; he swears that Bond only does it so that he can make him flush at their close proximity, the bastard.

Q enjoys it, his life, frustrations and all. 

*

It’s when he leaves for his flat that things get interesting.

Bond offers him a lift home, as he has the habit of doing whenever he is in London. Q tends to prefer to take the Tube when the weather is good, but when it rains or has gotten too late for him to handle the longer route, he’ll accept the offer.

It is a bright, sunny October’s day, so Q thanks Bond for the offer while politely refusing it, and walks to the station. He gets onto the train, takes his place at the back of the carriage, and gets out his personal tablet. He does not notice the black-haired man standing by the door, nor does he pay any attention to the one sitting near the beautiful brunette woman he can see in the corner of his eye. 

Later, he would look back at the moment and ask himself whether he had learned _anything_ at all from observing Bond and the other agents during missions. (And for the record, he had. Plenty of things, actually, not all of them usable when there are other people about. Still, he had watched and learned.) But that would come only afterwards, when he is back at home with his cats and can fully appreciate the strangeness of his evening. 

When his stop comes, Q gets up and leaves the Tube. He walks out of the station and heads for his apartment building in a brisk but not overly energetic pace. He does not notice the men following him right away, but when the black limousine drives past him and stops next to the sidewalk, well, that is the sort of a give-away that even Q, distracted by his own thoughts as he is, finds hard to miss. 

Q blinks and debates between stopping and turning back or starting to run, glances around to see how many people are there (not many), and wonders why today of all days? In broad daylight… well, slightly greyish daylight, as this this is London in late October and the fading sunset, while beautiful, means that it is later than he thought, and where _did_ the time go, really? It was still sunny when he left, wasn’t it? 

Q shakes his head to clear his thoughts, and it is at that moment when he feels two sets of arms grab him from behind and forcibly escort him towards the waiting limo. Q has barely time to take a breath (to scream for help? to demand what the hell is going on? he hasn’t quite decided) before he has already been neatly and efficiently deposited into the car, messenger bag and all, and he finds himself on the front-facing seat between those two black-haired men that had been following him from the Tube. 

The door closes with a quiet click, and Q blinks. He half expects to be drugged, or at least restrained somehow, now that the kidnappers have gotten hold of him, but nothing like that happens. The two men sitting on the other seat look at him with what Q determines to be pure curiosity, and he notices that they, too, have black hair and pale skin and that they look rather similar to the men sitting either side of him. 

Q starts to have some vague ideas about what is going on, but he outright refuses to believe something so outrageous, at least without proper evidence. Besides, it could just as well be simply a Halloween joke, couldn’t it? Or else a ploy to prevent him from identifying them afterwards. 

”Good evening, Quartermaster,” says one of the men facing him, breaking the silence. 

”Good evening?” Q says, raising an eyebrow. ”I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of knowing who you are,” he adds, somewhat apologetic. It helps to be polite during a kidnapping, he remembers having been taught, and he happens to agree. 

The man smiles. ”Ah, allow us to introduce ourselves,” he says smoothly. ”Renwick Hyde, at your service.”

”Valerian Cole, at your service,” says the man next to Renwick. 

”Orion LaRue.” That is the man on Q’s left.

”And Lucien LaRue.” The man on Q’s right. Apparently, they are related to one another, at least if one goes by their shared last name. It is a reasonable assumption, Q thinks, but he does not plan on asking just so he could be sure. 

”Charmed,” Q says, ever polite, even as he wonders what is really going on. He does not have much experience with kidnappings (even including those of his agents’) but surely this is something else.

He glances at his bag on the floor, trying to be as covert as he can. Could he get his mobile from the side pocket if he was really quick? Not that he’d know what to do with it if he could, for surely he’d have no time to actually call or text anyone before it would get removed by one of the men, and the tracking system on the device works without needing a button be pushed or anything else archaic like that, so technically he is all set. As long as the mobile remains in his possession, that is. 

His tablet would be less helpful, but Q knows that it will not be any more helpful for his kidnappers, either, since it contains minimal work related data. His work tablet, luckily, remains safely in his office at Six. 

Not that he’d know for sure why he is being kidnapped, but Q can hazard a guess. Especially since Renwick addressed him as the Quartermaster, which is a big hint as far as Q is concerned. 

Renwick smiles knowingly at him, and Q averts his eyes. 

”You won’t be needing your mobile,” he tells Q. ”But to assuage your fears, neither do we.” 

Q raises an eyebrow. ”Forgive me but I find that a little hard to believe.”

Valerian shrugs. ”We won’t, though. Still, I am afraid that we cannot allow you to use it just yet.” He pauses and takes out a medium sized black bag from under the seats. ”However, we will have to put it, along with your tablet, into this bag. It’s simply a precaution, you’ll understand, to stop anyone from tracking us. And of course you’ll get everything back later tonight.” 

”We have no real interest in MI-6 and what you do there, dear Quartermaster,” Renwick adds, wrinkling his nose. ”Or may we call you Q? We’ve been led to believe that it is your own preference.” 

”Q is fine, yes,” Q consents. He is most used to that, anyway, so he sees no reason why he couldn’t let his captors to use it. To say no to them would be meaningless defiance, and Q knows better than to aggravate any kidnappers for such pointless reasons. 

He also knows that to refuse handing over his mobile and tablet would be rather unadvisable, so he takes out both and obediently presents them to Renwick. 

”Excellent,” Renwick smiles as he takes the offered items from Q and puts them into the bag, which he then hands back over to Valerian. He seems to like smiling more than the others, Q has noticed. ”There is no reason for us all not to get along, after all,” he adds pleasantly. 

Valerian nods. ”True. We won’t be doing anything to you without your explicit permission,” he assures Q. ”We’re only interested in talking.” 

”I see,” Q says slowly. He is not sure if he should believe them, but so far the most threatening thing done to him is the initial capture, which did not include even the slightest bit of bodily harm to his person, so perhaps they are telling the truth. 

”This is the most polite kidnapping I’ve ever been part of,” Q then says, conversationally.

”Oh, but we are not kidnapping you,” Renwick says and looks dismayed. ”We are merely… borrowing you, for a few hours.”

”Without asking for permission?” Q inquires. ”I hate to tell you this, but that is closer to the definition of kidnapping than borrowing.” 

Renwick and Valerian share a look, and Q can sense their amusement. There is also something else passing between the four men, though what that something else is, he cannot be sure of. Whatever it is, though, it’s making him slightly nervous. 

Q clears his throat and searches for something to say. What he eventually settles with is, ”So, um. Where are you taking me, exactly?”

”I’m afraid we cannot tell you,” Orion says close to his ear, and Q starts, not having expected that.

”Or we could,” Lucien adds from his other side, mischievous, ”but then we’d have to turn you.” 

Q can feel his eyes widen. ”Oh, um. Never mind, then.” He has no idea how serious they are, but he is perfectly fine not finding out. 

“Orion, Lucien, please,” Renwick says, his tone long suffering. “The younger ones are always so impulsive, don’t you think, Q?” 

Q blinks. “Ah. I suppose?” he offers, not really sure what is expected of him. Besides, he is pretty sure that he is considered to belong amongst the young ones himself. 

“They don’t mean it,” Valerian says. The look he gives to the two apparently younger men is filled with amusement and exasperation in equal measure and Q gets the feeling that this is not the first time that such a look has been aimed at them. 

Neither Orion nor Lucien look at all chastised, though, when Q chances a peek, and that alone reinforces the notion that it certainly is not the first time for it to happen to them. 

“We apologise,” Orion says after a moment.

“It was a joke,” Lucien continues. “We’d never do that without permission.” 

They look serious enough that Q believes them, and that makes him feel a little better. Still, as non-traditional as this is, it _is_ still a kidnapping, and Q is not going to forget about that fact anytime soon. 

“The others will be eager to meet you, as well,” Renwick says suddenly. Perhaps he is hoping to lead Q’s attention elsewhere, or perhaps he just wants to share the excitement with him, but it certainly works.

“The others?” Q echoes, not really sure if he wants to know. More of these strange people who may or may not be, dare he think it, vampires? It surely is just his luck, Q thinks, resigned. 

Valerian nods. “Yes. But do not worry, not everyone will be there right now. We would not want to overwhelm you on the first meeting.”

First meeting, Q thinks to himself. Is that to hint that there will be more than just this one? If it turns out to be such and not just something to mess with his head, that is, because Q is not yet fully convinced. 

“And why would you want to meet me, of all people?” Q decides to ask, because why not? The men do not seem like they would be against him showing his curiosity, at least going by the way they have acted so far, so Q feels justified in asking. 

“Well,” says Valerian, slow and precise. “It has perhaps less to do with you being the Quartermaster than with your specific skill sets, though of course some of us are more invested in the whole MI-6 business than some others think important.”

Oh, Q thinks and bites his lower lip. It is not hard enough to draw blood, or it wouldn’t normally be, but ever since 007 stepped into his life, well, he has gotten into the habit of worrying this one specific part of his lip between his teeth - a dreadful habit, he is well aware, but can anyone who knows Bond really blame him? - which, in turn, means that if he forgets himself he might just bite it hard enough to make it bleed and… 

Q tastes a hint of iron on his lip and, aiming for casual and most likely failing if these men truly are vampires, covers his mouth with his hand to discreetly lick it away. 

There are no sudden moves, no twitching of limbs or anything of that sort; however, the atmosphere in the car does shift, subtle but enough for Q to notice it too, and he could swear that all the four men are suddenly even more focused on him than they were mere seconds ago. 

Well, then.

“I, um,” Q starts and then hesitates, because is he honestly going to say this? How absurd has his life become, really? “I mean. You _are_ vampires, aren’t you?” And he holds his breath, because he needs to know that he has not suddenly lost his mind, damn it. 

Renwick chuckles. “Of course we are,” he admits, easy as ever. “Was there any confusion about that?”

“Well,” Q says, picking his words delicately, “up until this moment I was under the impression that vampires aren’t necessarily, um, real?” 

“Oh, we are,” Lucien assures him, amused, and Q wonders if he imagined the flash of teeth he could hear in the man’s - _vampire’s_ \- voice.

“Would you like to hear more about us, about our history?” 

Surprisingly, it is Orion who offers it, and Q finds himself nodding almost before he has time to understand what has been asked, his scientific curiosity easily getting the better of any survival instincts he might possess. So if the rest of the trip to wherever it is that they’re going is spent listening to vampires explaining their history to him, well, all the more reason for him _not_ to mention it to Bond should he ever find himself sharing this particular story with him.

*

When the car stops, Q barely notices it. He is much too intrigued by the information being shared with him, and while he cannot imagine himself spending his life like that, he at least acknowledges that he wouldn’t mind befriending a vampire or a few. Could be useful, that, and it would certainly make his life more interesting. 

“We’re here,” Renwick says, and that is Q’s cue to blink and realise that he has absolutely no idea where they are. None whatsoever, and isn’t that an unnerving thought for an employee of MI-6? He doubts that they are still in the city, but other than that he cannot say anything due to the black tinted windows of the limo. Though that, he thinks, is easily explained by who are using said limo. 

“And where might here be, exactly?” Q asks as he is getting out of the car after the vampires. Orion even offers him a hand to help him out, which Q takes after only a hint of hesitation, because while he now feels more comfortable with them they are still strangers and therefore Q deems it wiser not to do anything to antagonise them. 

“We still cannot tell you, for safety reasons,” Valerian says, looking apologetic. “But please don’t worry, you will be delivered safely back where we picked you from when we’re done here.”

“That’s comforting,” Q murmurs, so quiet that no one should be able to hear him, but the smirks that are directed at him tell their own story. Enhanced hearing confirmed, then, Q thinks and makes a mental note. 

“If you’ll follow me,” says Renwick, “we can get inside and meet the others.” 

Q obediently begins to follow the vampire towards what looks like a truly impressive mansion. It is in the middle of essentially nowhere, which makes perfect sense when one considers who lives there, but it makes Q wary all the same. Should they want to, they could do anything they wanted to him there, and Q would be in no position to resist, nor could he count on any rescue attempts from Six. On the off chance that someone checked the tracker of his phone at just the right time, all they’d see is that he was not at home, and no one would be none the wiser that he had not exactly consented being brought here. 

Perhaps, if he could send a quick text, but. That is not something he should think about right now, not when no threat has been actually present. 

Distractedly, Q wonders whether vampires can read minds, in addition to having enhanced hearing and super strength. He sincerely hopes not. 

Inside, the mansion looks even more impressive. It has lots of sparkling chandeliers (not those with actual candles though, as fire is not something that vampires are that thrilled about, or at least that is what Lucien tells him), heavy dark curtains on the windows, and generally an air of elegance and luxury. Q is led towards a large sitting room where he can see a number of people - vampires - already waiting for him. Q swallows and steels himself, deciding to trust Renwick and Valerian and believe that this will be only a friendly meeting.

”Renwick! I see you found him,” says a tall and pale man with long white-blonde hair, smiling at them from where he is sitting by the unlit fireplace. 

”That we did,” Renwick nods. “Everyone, come meet the Quartermaster of MI-6.” 

The vampires, all of about a dozen or less, stand up and start to make their way towards Q and his companions. The man who had spoken is leading them and reaches Q first, offering him his hand to shake.

“Welcome to our humble residence,” he says with a blinding smile. “My name is Alarick Lockhart and I am delighted to finally meet you.”

Q shakes the offered hand. “Oh, um, you may call me Q,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” 

“The pleasure is all ours,” Alarick assures him and pulls him forward slightly. Q blinks but goes with it, leaving the relative safety of Lucien and Orion with whom he has started to feel a certain affinity. 

The other vampires come closer and start to introduce themselves to Q. He offers his own (still a little hesitant) smiles as he shakes hands and, on a few occasions, flushes lightly at what turn out to be kisses at the back of his hand instead, and effortlessly matches names and faces together when they’re being shared with him. His memory has, after all, always been excellent. 

There are women, too, among the vampires, Q notices. They look just as regal as their male counterparts, and it all makes Q wonder if one needs to be tall, slender, and have either black or blond hair in order to become a vampire. The thought does not fail to amuse him, as he is more than aware that he himself would blend right in amongst them, should one of them decide to turn him. 

Perhaps, one of these days, he’ll ask about it. 

Or perhaps he’ll just keep that little thought locked tight inside his own mind. Unless, of course, being a vampire does come with the ability to read others’ minds. Once again Q finds himself hoping that it doesn’t. 

“Say, Q,” says a woman with honey blonde hair down to her elbows, artfully arranged into a cascade of mixed thin plaits and arrow straight strands, and decorated with what must be real emeralds. Her name is Gwendolyne, but she has told Q to call her Gwen. “Are the Double-O agents as formidable as they’re rumoured to be? I figured that since you work with them, you’d know.” She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling along with the jewels in her hair.

“Um, I suppose they are?” Q says, not having expected quite that. “I mean, they usually finish their missions, with varying success,” he continues, thinking about the way certain agents rarely bring any of his tech back in one piece. 

“Oh, yes, their missions,” grins a woman with blue-tinted black hair in a complicated updo and diamonds sparkling around her neck and wrists. Her name is Wren, and she winks at Q. “I have heard about those.”

“Indeed,” Gwen chuckles. “I hear that the success rate is rather high. Not that it’s any surprise, with a physique like, for example, the blond one’s.” 

Q has an uncomfortable feeling that they are not talking about the same subject, anymore, and possibly never did. 

“I wouldn’t mind being the focus of such a mission,” says a woman called Ivory, playing with a lock of her blond hair. “How about you, Q? Or perhaps you already have some experience with the matter?”

That is when it hits Q, and he blushes almost violently. Of all the topics of conversation…! Bloody vampires, Q thinks to himself. And while the pun certainly isn’t lost on him, he is rather busy trying his best to not splutter and actually get something intelligent out of his mouth. Unsurprisingly, he is not very successful in his efforts, which causes the three women to chuckle, amused over what they call his ‘delicate human sensibilities’. 

There is suddenly a glass of something red by his elbow, courtesy of Valerian. Q accepts the glass, though he cannot help but feel a tiny bit apprehensive. 

“It’s not blood,” Valerian says, amused, as if he is reading his mind. Or, Q thinks, it could be just an educated guess. “It’s red wine. Or would you prefer white wine?”

“Red is fine,” Q assures Valerian, and then takes a small sip of what turns out to be a rather nice wine. He sees that the vampires around him are also sipping red liquid from similar glasses, but he is rather certain that they are drinking something else entirely and that it’s not Ribena either. 

He is again reminded that he is the only human (well, that he knows of - perhaps there are human servants around here somewhere? Aren’t vampires supposed to have those?) in the middle of a number of vampires, and for a moment Q feels a measure of nervousness once more. But the feeling passes quickly and becomes replaced with familiar scientific curiosity. Tonight is his chance to learn as much as he can about vampires. Besides, it’s not like they are that different from humans, if the previous topic of conversation is anything to go by. 

The rest of the evening passes in pleasant conversation. Sure, some of the vampires ask about his work and MI-6 a lot (and Q answers them the best he can without divulging any secrets), and others tease him about the Double-Os (especially about Bond; for a reason Q cannot fathom, they seem to have realised his complicated feelings for the man - Q would once again suspect mind reading if both Lucien and Orion weren’t assuring him that they were not capable of that), but several of them are just as interested about him outside of work. Q is also allowed to ask them any question he deems important, and the vampires are more than happy to provide demonstrations whenever necessary. 

An example: he gets to see a vampire’s fangs from perhaps a little closer distance than he had ever thought that he could, and he also does get to confirm that they are indeed very sharp. Q decides that that is, again, something he probably never should share with Bond. 

All in all, the evening, while different from what Q had in mind when he left Six, is definitely interesting; and at the end of it, when Q has been delivered back home just like Valerian had promised him, he thinks that it has certainly been worth it. He does ask his hosts for a bit of warning for next time though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Q gets kidnapped for the second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the later than preferred update. I was distracted by Nanowrimo for the rest of November (and am still not finished with it), so unfortunately this fic got to suffer the consequences. Still, I hope that you’ll enjoy this chapter. ^^

**002.**

When Q arrives to work the next morning, it turns out that his little meeting has not gone unnoticed by his branch. Or by M, as it appears, for the man has sent Bond of all people to see him and make sure that he is perfectly alright.

(Or perhaps Bond has volunteered, or even blackmailed his way into it. Q honestly wouldn’t put it past him.)

The email he had received from Eve, late in the evening (or early in the morning, depending on how one looks at it) and on behalf of M, does not make it clear either way. What it does, however, is to inquire about his whereabouts concerning the previous evening, and whether any actions need to be taken. Q had replied with a short but polite explanation about how he had been meeting with some important individuals and how there had been a tiny misunderstanding concerning the way the meeting had been arranged. 

(He had promised not to openly talk about the whole vampire thing, after all. Though apparently M had been aware of their existence all along, go figure, and by extension also Eve. Why no one had seen fit to inform him, though, was anyone’s guess.) 

Q sees Bond just barely inside the lobby, all tall and imposing, and checks in a sigh. He had hoped that his email had been enough, but clearly it hadn’t. He just wishes that M does not consider what happened to him a reason to be giving him a bodyguard or anything ridiculous like that. 

“Good morning, 007,” he says once he is next to Bond. “Fancy seeing you here at this hour.”

“Q,” Bond says and - what the hell? - grabs him by the arms. “You are all right?” 

Q frowns. “Yes. I am, as you very well can see. Now, what are you doing, exactly?”

But Bond doesn’t seem to be listening to him; instead, he is running his hands quickly and efficiently along Q’s body, checking for injuries if Q is not completely mistaken. Patiently, he waits for Bond to finish. 

“All right,” Bond says as he - reluctantly, Q can feel - eventually pulls his hands away. “You seem to be fine. But perhaps you ought to go to Medical anyway, just in case?”

“No,” Q says, tone firm, “where I need to go is to my own branch. I’m already late as it is, thanks to you. I’d tell you not to follow me but I have a feeling that you’d do it anyway, so I won’t even bother.” 

With that, he leaves the lobby, descends down to the lower levels and into Q Branch, with Bond as his shadow. The morning shift is already there, working on their computers, and everyone seems to look up when he steps into the room. Q blinks but gets his explanation as soon as R sees him and hurries over to him. 

What had happened is this: His mobile’s tracking system is being monitored at all times, as he is well aware. But because his mobile had not been touched in over four hours last evening, an amount of time Q would normally never go without at least checking his email or sending a text to a friend or something, that, of all things, had roused the attention of his technicians. 

Q has to hand it to them, they were not exactly wrong. 

The fact that the tracking device showed nothing of where he was had been another sign that perhaps everything wasn’t quite as it should be. 

Still, he is here now and had an interesting evening and absolutely nothing untoward had happened to him. So Q assures everyone that it was merely a misunderstanding and that he is perfectly fine, and makes sure to commend everyone for their diligence. Then he escapes to his office, needing some time to organise his thoughts and hopefully get rid of Bond, as the man seems to be intent on following him wherever he goes, and that’s a distraction that Q can ill afford. 

”You can go now, 007,” Q says once he hears the door close behind Bond. ”I have important things to do and no time to act as your babysitter.”

”Q,” Bond says, patient, ”I won’t go anywhere until you’ve told me what happened yesterday. I heard that you got kidnapped?”

”You and half of the people in this bloody building,” Q mutters to himself before turning to face Bond again. ”Like I said, nothing happened. It was all a misunderstanding, quite silly actually, now that I think about it.” 

”Really?” Bond says, eyebrows raised. ”So you did not get picked up by an unfamiliar car and taken to an undisclosed location by people you were not familiar with?”

Q stares, because where _does_ Bond get his intel? He would say Q Branch, except that he knows that his branch only knows that he was away from his phone for a time, not where he actually was and how he got there. 

“Well, Q? I am waiting.”

Q shakes his head. “You,” he tells Bond, “are quite something else. And no, that was _not_ a compliment. But fine, yes, you are correct. However, nothing bad happened. I met some new people and had a pleasant evening, and then I went back home. That is all.”

“Pity,” is all Bond says. 

Q narrows his eyes. Did Bond just sound… disappointed? Why, had he wanted to be the one to save him, was that it? Absurd, Q finds himself thinking yet again, and he takes a deep breath through his nose. 

“007,” he says, more forceful than he had thought reasonable, but then, this is _Bond_ he is dealing with. “Did you or did you not just imply to being disappointed that what happened to me last night was not a real kidnapping?” 

Bond looks amused. “And if I did?”

Q frowns. “You do realise that had I been kidnapped for real, things could have turned ugly really fast, don’t you? Also, a rescue party would have been required to save me, which is never as simple as it sounds. You’ve been part of enough of such missions, 007, you ought to know not to make light of it.” 

“I would have been more than happy to save you though, Q,” Bond says, almost purrs, and Q has had enough. 

“That’s it,” Q says firmly, “I am officially done with you for the day. Please leave my branch and do not come back before you are actually invited… or hell, just _don’t_ come back, period.” And he makes a shooing motion with his hand and stares at Bond until the man has the grace to comply. 

Surprisingly, it only takes a minute or two maximum. On a normal day Q would be impressed, but right now being impressed with Bond is the last thing that he wants. What he wants - no, what he _needs_ \- is time to focus on his work without Bond acting as the bloody confusing distraction that he always is.

*

He should have known Bond’s willing departure was too good to be true. But Q is only a man and men are known to be fallible, even those that are as intelligent as he is, and therefore he really should not have been surprised when the agent had returned not once but twice, first during lunch time to make sure that he ate at least something (Bond’s words, not his), and then right as he is preparing to leave for the day.

“What do you want this time, 007?” he asks, even as he is making a show of packing his messenger bag. “As you can see, I am about to leave, so I suggest that you make it quick.”

“Oh, I am aware of that,” Bond says simply. “That’s actually why I’m here. I will be driving you home tonight. M’s orders.”

Q looks sceptical. “You _are_ aware that I can check that in about ten seconds, right?” 

Bonds shrugs. “Doesn’t change a thing. You will come with me either way. And if you think that I won’t dare use force on you, well, you are sadly mistaken.”

Q rolls his eyes. “Threatening your Quartermaster now? Classy, 007.” 

“If you don’t fight me, threats won’t be necessary,” Bond tells him, simple as that. 

Q sighs deeply. “Fine. Drive me home if you must. But there will be absolutely no coming to check my flat to see that it’s secure or other such nonsense. And before you say anything, Bond, I know you. You also should know me by now, so have a little faith, would you?” 

Bond nods. “As long as you come quietly,” he winks, and Q shakes his head, amused against his better judgement. 

And so Q ends up going home with Bond, except that the man does stay in his car as per their agreement. He does, however, tell Q that he will be there to pick him up again in the morning, and Q knows that saying no will make absolutely no difference to Bond so he does not even bother trying. What he does say, though, is that he has his own schedule and if Bond thinks that Q’ll be waiting on him should he arrive even a minute late, then he really ought to think again.

*

What starts as Bond driving him to and from work just this once quickly evolves into Bond doing it every day, always with the same excuse of not giving anyone else the chance to kidnap him again. It should be annoying, Q muses in the privacy of his office, and it is, really, but it is also kind of… sweet? Unnecessary, yes, but sweet; not that he would tell Bond that, nor would he ever agree out loud that he enjoys the man’s company, but he doesn’t go out of his way to think of excuses to get out of it, either.

Still, it is sort of a relief to hear that Bond has been ordered on an assignment that is expected to keep him away from London for at least a week. Q makes sure that Bond gets everything he needs from his branch and listens patiently enough when Bond complains about not being able to get away from the mission. Then, he reminds 007 that not only is he perfect for this particular mission but also Q is still not completely helpless and can, in fact, survive without Bond constantly on his tail.

Besides, he wants to get back to his old routine of taking the Tube when he feels like it, and that is definitely easier when Bond is away. 

And that, Q later thinks, is probably why the second time he gets kidnapped happens only three days after Bond’s departure to yet another dusty location in the Middle East.

*

Q is on his way to get groceries, because apparently he has forgotten all about such mundane chores while spending most of his past three days in close communication with Bond regardless of the mission requiring it or not; and a stubborn 007 really should not be allowed to get his own way every time, but well, what can Q do other than try and ignore him? And if he does, that will then mean that whomever of his minions that gets stuck with Bond will end up paying the price, and Q just isn’t strong enough to face the despair on their faces. Really, he is way too soft, Q thinks resignedly, and isn’t it just splendid that Bond manages to distract him even when he is nowhere in sight?

The two men who suddenly appear on either side of him are a surprise that Q doesn’t quite manage to cover, though if he has survived a meeting with vampires then this really shouldn’t phase him all that much, now should it? 

So Q sighs and says quite dryly, ”Don’t tell me, you’re here to kidnap me as well? Or wait, was it borrow, again?” 

One of the men laughs and claps him on the back hard enough to briefly unsettle him. The arm that then wraps around his shoulders is hardly something he did not expect, but that doesn’t mean that he is quite comfortable with it either. Still, he keeps his cool and waits to see what happens. 

”You’re funny,” the man declares, amused. ”I like you.” 

”And you are?” Q asks and raises an eyebrow. 

”Nathan Crane,” comes the quick reply. ”It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

”Likewise, I’m sure,” Q says, if a touch hesitant.

”And he’s Lucas Black,” Nathan continues, nodding at the man on Q’s right. The man says nothing, though, just leans a bit closer to Q and inhales deeply. 

Q starts - has the man just _sniffed_ at him? - and blinks, confused. 

”You’re not a vampire?” Lucas finally opens his mouth, sounding a mix of curious and relieved. 

”Well… no, I am not,” Q answers. 

”I knew it,” says Nathan and grins. 

”Why would you think that I’m a, uh, vampire?” Q inquires, curious despite himself. 

”Well you certainly aren’t a werewolf,” Lucas replies, cheeky.

”And, um, no other kinds exist?” Q finds himself asking. ”Just vampires and werewolves?”

”Nah,” says Nathan, ”there are others too. But those are hardly the important kind.” 

Q blinks, because that is fascinating on several levels. Could it be that these two, could he call them species? Are considered to be at the top of the food chain, so to speak? At least, according to themselves. And what are those other kinds of creatures, then, the so called not important kind? Q is not surprised upon realising that he really wants to find out. 

”Then what kind are they?” he asks, because he can’t resist.

”The boring kind,” is the only answer he gets. ”We are more interested in you, Quartermaster.”

”Of course you are,” Q replies, and it isn’t even him being conceited or anything. He just figures that if the vampires did it, then werewolves needed to do it, as well. 

”Yes, so we’re taking you to meet the others,” Nathan tells him. ”That alright with you?”

Well, at least he asked, Q muses. ”Do I have an actual choice in the matter?” he still wonders out loud.

Nathan surprises him by nodding. ”Sure. We’re not monsters. But, since you did go and meet those vampires…” 

”You expect me to come and meet you, too,” Q continues for him. ”I suppose I am, then.” 

”Great,” Nathan smiles and begins to steer him towards a silvery car parked nearby. ”My car is right there, that silver one, see? We were originally thinking about arranging the meeting at a nice café or a restaurant,” he starts to explain.

”Since we don't have the restrictions those pale bastards do,” Lucas interrupts, sounding rather cheerful about it.

”As I was saying,” Nathan continues, ”we were thinking about it, but then we decided that you deserve to see where we live, too.” 

Q connects the dots effortlessly. The vampires were showing off to him, so naturally the werewolves would be, too. He senses that the feelings that run between those two groups are more than a little competitive. Perhaps not maliciously so, as he is sure that there are friendships between them as well, but he is starting to get an understanding of how these two supernatural groups handle things amongst themselves. 

When they reach the car, Nathan takes the wheel while Lucas ushers Q into the backseat. He follows suit, as well, and makes sure that Q’s seatbelt is fastened before settling down next to him, closer than what Q is used to. He wonders if it’s only to make sure that he’ll stay put, or whether physical closeness is somehow a werewolf thing. Or perhaps it’s a bit of both? He assumes that he’ll find out either way, tonight. 

When Lucas produces a familiar looking black bag, Q immediately realises what is expected of him and therefore he relinquishes his mobile and his tablet without being asked, watching as the werewolf slips them into the bag and then stores it somewhere below his seat. Q wonders if he’ll end up blindfolded, next, as the windows of the car are perfectly see-through, which is quite normal, especially seeing how werewolves, unlike vampires, have no problem with the sun. He almost asks, but ends up biting his lip and swallowing the words at the last second, not wanting to give his would-be kidnappers any ideas. 

Not that they need any help with that, he soon finds out. 

”Now, Q,” Nathan says from the front of the car, ”I apologise for having to ask this of you, but needs must. Will you allow Lucas to blindfold you for the duration of the drive? It’s nothing personal, just that removing your gadgets would mean little if we allowed you to see where we’re taking you.” 

Q gives a tiny nod. ”I understand,” he says. ”It comes as no surprise to me, really, as I knew why you wanted my mobile and tablet. The vampires did the same, as well, though they did not blindfold me.”

Lucas, who has produced a longish piece of black cloth from somewhere, looks at him thoughtfully. ”They’re still driving around in that ridiculous limo?” he asks, and Q nods. ”Then I see why they wouldn’t.” 

”Yes, so, how shall we do this?” Q inquires, feeling somewhat awkward. He has never been in this position before, after all, and these werewolves are strangers to him. 

”Just face away from me, remove your glasses - and yes, just put them on their case - and relax,” Lucas advices him. ”I’ll try to make it as quick and painless as I can.”

”When you put it like that,” Q says, mildly, even as he follows the instructions, ”it makes me the tiniest bit nervous.”

”Ah, yes.” Lucas moves even closer and carefully puts the cloth over Q’s eyes. ”Poor choice of words. Now, can you see anything?”

Q shakes his head slightly - though privately he thinks that perhaps just removing his glasses would have been enough to achieve the desired effect - and Lucas then efficiently ties the ends at the back of his head. ”It’s not too tight now, is it?”

”No, it isn’t,” Q tells him. And true to his words, the blindfold sits neatly over his eyes and allows nothing but the vaguest traces of sunlight to filter through it, and wearing it also feels surprisingly comfortable. 

”Good,” Lucas says right next to his ear, and Q flinches ever so slightly. The word is louder and closer than what he had expected, so his reaction really is no surprise. He can hear Lucas chuckle lightly, and then there are hands on his shoulders, helping him to face forward and lean back against the seat again. 

”I know it’s probably uncomfortable for you, Q, but this shouldn’t take longer than half an hour, depending on traffic,” Nathan says from the front seat. 

”It’s fine,” Q assures him. ”I understand the reasoning behind it.” 

”I suppose you have experienced something similar in your line of work, then?” 

Q makes a small, amused sound. ”Now you’re mixing me up with a field agent,” he says, lightly. ”My job is mainly done behind a computer screen, which tends not to involve any such restrictive measures.” Of course he is oversimplifying things a great deal, but it isn’t like he’s going to give them any details about his work, anyway, so it’ll do. 

”I see,” says Lucas, still as close to him as ever, and Q wonders whether he can smell his slight uncomfortableness about it, and if he thinks it’s because of the blindfold. ”Well, anyway, since we’ll have some time to kill here, would you like to hear more about us werewolves? I assume the vampires gave you a lecture about their origins as well, though ours won’t be quite as dull.”

”I would love that, actually,” Q replies, amused at the disdain he can hear in Lucas’s voice. It is nothing that he hasn’t expected, according to the werewolf’s earlier words, but it is enough to deepen his curiosity about the relationship between those two species. He hopes that he’ll find out more about that, too, tonight. 

”Great,” Lucas says and then launches into what Q privately thinks of as a long-winded but certainly interesting lecture about the history of werewolves.

*

It turns out that they are lucky and the traffic isn’t as bad as it could be, and they reach their destination well within the time frame estimated by Nathan. Q can guess that they are no longer in London, though he has no idea where exactly they are due to the blindfold. They could easily be right next to the place the vampires have claimed - much as he doubts that - and he would have absolutely no idea.

Also, Lucas has been talking during most of the ride, with occasional input from Nathan, and Q has been listening carefully and therefore hardly paying any attention to anything that theoretically could have helped him in identifying the surroundings. Though, as he did tell the werewolves, he is not a field agent and most likely wouldn’t have been successful in such an endeavour in any case. 

“All right, Q, we’re here,” Nathan announces cheerfully as soon as the car stops. 

“Which means that I will be removing the blindfold next,” Lucas continues. What with him being so close to Q, all he has to do is to gently turn Q to face away from him, and within moments he has gotten the ends of the cloth untied. It quietly falls down to Q’s lap and Q blinks his eyes a few times, not really seeing much of anything yet. He fumbles for his messenger bag to get his glasses, though it takes a few tries to actually reach them. As soon as he gets to put them on, though, everything is clearer and he can again see more than just blurry blobs of bright light, though of course it takes his eyes a few more moments to properly adjust to the new situation. 

”You all right, Q?” Lucas asks, and Q nods. 

”I’m fine,” he tells the werewolves. 

”Great, then we can get inside to meet the others.” It’s Nathan this time, and he sounds eager as he gets out of the car. 

Lucas opens his door and, after making sure that Q has no problems with his seatbelt and telling him that he can leave his bag in the car, gets out and waits for Q to do the same. Q makes his way out of the car with little difficulty, and then gets his first glimpse of the place the werewolves have taken him to. 

While the vampires’ dwelling had been a large and impressive mansion, the house where the werewolves live is also big enough to have room for at least a dozen people, but it is less showy on the outside. Instead, it looks more cosy and inviting, and certainly much less intimidating in its size and colouring. Q decides that he likes the way it looks. 

”Nice, isn’t it?” Nathan asks, smiling. ”Compared to where the vampires live, it’s much more comfortable to live in.” 

“It certainly looks more inviting, at least,” Q comments. 

Lucas grins. “Yes it does. Now, shall we?” And while he doesn’t quite offer Q his arm - a fact that Q is grateful for, as he hardly wants or needs an introduction quite like that - he does remain almost too close to Q to make sure that Q keeps up and also to show him where to go. Although surely following Nathan would have been quite enough, Q thinks to himself even as they reach the front door. 

Once inside, Q is swiftly taken to a large room containing an equally large table and enough seats to accommodate at least twenty people. The dining room is presently empty save for the three of them, but the table has been set for about a dozen people, and everything looks bright and shiny in a way that hints that while the cutlery isn’t quite silver nor the dishware porcelain, it isn’t Ikea either. Clearly more than a modicum of care has been used in choosing the tableware, and Q thinks that it actually looks like something that one can use and not worry too much about breaking or scratching. That, he assumes, is useful for werewolves, though in their human form he expects them to look like perfectly normal humans, if one goes by Nathan and Lucas. 

”Go let the others know that Q is here, would you?” Nathan says to Lucas, who nods and leaves the room via another door. Q watches him leave and then turns to face Nathan again.

”In a few minutes you’ll be meeting our leader as well as several others from our pack,” Nathan tells him. ”You have most likely already noticed that we tend to be a little more tactile and care less about one’s personal space than your average humans,” he adds. ”But if it bothers you, just let us know and we’ll do our best to modify our behaviour accordingly.” 

”Ah, well, I am not that used to strangers touching me,” Q says, sounding apologetic. ”So I hope that if I flinch or tense or react in some other way, you’ll let everyone know that it’s nothing personal.”

Nathan smiles at his words. ”Worry not, Q, everyone will understand it perfectly.” Then his expression turns pleased and his smile widens. ”Well, it seems that the time has come. Better brace yourself,” he announces cheerfully. 

Q has barely any time to change his expression into a more neutral one before the door opens and a group of people, most of them talking amongst each other, enters the room and heads straight towards the two of them. The one leading them, an older man with short chestnut brown hair just barely starting to turn gray and a matching beard, smiles at Q when he notices him looking and walks to where he stands next to Nathan.

”Good afternoon, Quartermaster,” he says, voice low but friendly, and offers Q his hand to shake. ”It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

Q shakes the offered hand and notices that the man has a firm but gentle grip. ”The pleasure is all mine,” he says. 

”My name is William Wolfe - and yes, it really is my last name and I am perfectly aware of the irony - and I am the leader of our pack.” The man pauses and offers Q an easy smile. ”We have heard a lot about you, so we’re delighted to have you here.” 

Q tells him that he is glad to be there, as well, and then continues to listen to introductions from the rest of the werewolves. In contrast to the vampires that he met, the werewolves all have hair in tones of red and brown, and while they are also attractive they appear less posh and a lot more down to earth. 

The women tend to have longer hair, as well, but theirs are sensibly in braids or simple ponytails without any of the flashiness that the vampire women had favoured. Similarly, their sense of fashion seems to go more for comfortableness than showing off, and several of them are clad in jeans and simple though pretty t-shirts.

The werewolves are rather interested in him, so it takes Q a long time to get through all of the introductions and the questions he is being bombarded with. Still, they - especially the men - keep their distance better than what Q had expected after Nathan’s warning. Though once he glances at said man and gets a thumbs up and a wink for his troubles, he realises that Nathan must have had let the others know about his discomfort somehow. Q blinks but nevertheless offers him a grateful smile in return. 

“All right, everyone,” William says in a louder voice once the final introduction is over and done with. “I believe it’s time for us to sit down and enjoy a nice dinner now.” 

Q follows the others to the table, and ends up sitting in between William, whose seat is at one end of the table, and Lucas. Nathan is sitting opposite to him, on William’s other side, and Q appreciates having them both close like that, as they are the ones he has spent the most time with so far. He had not exactly expected to be fed during this sort-of kidnapping, but he certainly isn’t going to say no to food, especially since he never got to buy the groceries that he was meant to go and get before getting waylaid by two werewolves. 

Once almost everyone is seated, the few remaining werewolves disappear and soon appear again with several dishes of food. The selection leans heavily towards meats, bread and cheeses, but there are also bowls of salads and plates of fruits as well as chips and roasted vegetables designed to complement the meats. Drink options include sparkling water, red and white wine, and to Q’s mild surprise, a selection of ales. 

The werewolves that had been acting as waiters go round the table to pour everyone wine (Q chooses white wine when he gets asked which he prefers), before going to claim their seats. Without prompting, Lucas explains to Q that they don’t have servants here and, unlike the vampires, they all pitch in when something needs to be done. They even have a system for it and everything, which is all very effective and organised. Q nods in agreement and thinks that he rather prefers this system to the vampires’, should he ever need to choose. 

William then raises his glass and gives a short speech, and Q is surprised at how much they all seem to be looking up to him, at least according to how highly William speaks of him. He should be getting used to it, perhaps, since the vampires made no secret of their fascination of him either, but truthfully this whole getting noticed by the supernatural societies of England has never been in the realm of possibilities for him and he is still finding it hard to believe that it’s really happening to him. But Q isn’t a professional for nothing, so he easily hides his thoughts under a calm façade and responds to the words as befits the Quartermaster of MI-6. 

Afterwards, everyone begins to reach for various foods, so Q follows their example. Lucas, though, has apparently taken it upon himself to make sure that Q gets to try any and all of the dishes, for he is offering Q new foods for what feels like every five minutes. Q accepts it all with perfect grace and makes sure to thank him every time. 

The conversation during the dinner is kept light and pleasant, and Q finds himself relaxing and enjoying both the food and the company. Not that he expected not to have a nice time, no, but he did not expect to get kidnapped like this and therefore was not ready for any of this. 

Though having gone through a similar experience with the vampires - although without the benefit of the food - he really should have expected something else to happen sooner or later. Even if, he thinks, they had never even mentioned the werewolves, which may or may not have been intentional. It wasn’t very thoughtful of them however, especially if it was intentional, considering the fact that he had been unaware of anything supernatural being real. Hmm, perhaps he ought to mention that to the vampires the next time he’d see them.

Q is glad that questions about Six and his role as the Quartermaster are kept to a minimum while they are eating, though, as it appears that the werewolves are more interested in him as a person and his abilities than anything confidential. They even ask him about his cats. That is only a good thing, of course, and he rewards them by answering their questions more fully than he has initially planned. 

One of the women, a redhead called Amber Wells who sits next to Nathan, is especially interested in his cats. She comes from a family who has always had several cats, she tells him, and she misses having a cat of her own. 

“I wish I could have a cat now,” she says wistfully, “but well, that just isn’t very practical here.” 

“Have you ever tried to have cats here?” Q asks, curious, though he has an idea for why it might not be very wise. After all, a house full of people who can turn into wolves any time they want is not exactly ideal for having cats. 

“We haven't,” William answers for her. “I’d be worried over how well a cat would deal with this many wolves around them, though of course I am aware that cats and dogs can easily coexist together.” 

Q looks at him thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would be easier if there were more than one cat,” he suggests. “The vets already recommend that people get two kittens together so that they’ll have each other’s company.” 

“Perhaps,” William nods. “But I think that some research into cats and wolves coexisting, if such can be found, would be crucial before considering anything like that.” 

Q nods, he agrees with that. “Well, you’re welcome to visit my cats, if you wish,” he finds himself offering to Amber, and he has to hide his surprise afterwards for he didn’t exactly expect himself to say that right now. 

“Really?” Amber smiles at him. “I would really like that.” 

“Yes, really,” Q assures her with a tiny smile of his own. And that is how they end up exchanging mobile numbers, and Q tells her that he’d show her photos of his cats, too, if he had his mobile with him right now. 

The rest of the dinner and the relocating to a set of couches that follows is rather uneventful, if one ignores the way several of the women start to talk to Q about his cats and then about other things, as well. After his conversations with the vampire women, Q has expected to be asked about the Double-O agents, so when it happens he is able to remain unaffected and answer those questions more or less truthfully. What he hasn’t expected, though, is how those questions soon focus on him as well, and turn rather intimate. 

”You have been talking with Ivory and her friends, haven’t you?” Q asks, resigned, as he looks at a woman called Maeve Carr who has a long braid of medium brown hair trailing over one shoulder and red lips curled into a teasing smile. 

”We might have,” she says, sharing a look with the other women sitting nearby.

”But really,” chimes in one of her friends, a brown-haired woman called Gabrielle Bennett and grins, ”you’re not exactly subtle, Q dear, in case no one has ever told you that.” 

Q can feel himself flushing light pink. ”I’m not?” 

”No, you most certainly are not,” Maeve assures him. ”Every time you talk about 007 in particular you get this look in your eyes, one that tells the rest of us that there is something in there between you two. So really, not subtle at all.”

”Oh,” Q says, softly, and resolves to do whatever he can to stop doing that. Right now, if in any way possible. ”Thank you for telling me.” 

”No problem,” Gabrielle smiles. Then her expression brightens. ”Though, if I were you I would just walk to him and kiss him without any fuss. There’s little that some kissing can’t help, after all.” 

Q blinks. ”Yes, well, you are certainly better equipped to deal with what would happen afterwards, unlike me. So I think that I’ll just keep my distance, but thank you for the suggestion.”

Gabrielle gives him a look. ”If you say so.” 

Q glances around and catches the eye of Nathan and Lucas, and he isn’t exactly sure what his eyes say (perhaps there’s a plea for help in there somewhere, clear for them to see) but both werewolves soon appear next to him and wrap their arms around his shoulders and somehow, incredibly smoothly and effortlessly, steal him away to the other side of the room to talk about how the eyes of cats and wolves differ from each other. Q cannot claim that he minds the topic of conversation, all things considered, so he lets himself be led into a debate over whose eyes are prettier. 

Of course, Q will always side with cats. But when the friendly debate turns into both Lucas and Nathan showing him their wolf forms to try and prove that their eyes are, in fact, much nicer, Q has to partly give in; while he isn’t exactly swayed over to their side he does appreciate the wild beauty of the wolves, and having two wolves nudge their heads against his sides like playful puppies to encourage him to pet them, well, what else can Q do but sit down on the floor next to them and acquiesce? 

When he ends up getting licked in the face by two broad, surprisingly soft tongues, all he can do is laugh and try to bat them away, though without much success. However, Q doesn’t quite mind it as much as he pretends that he does, and he is reasonably sure that it’s because he has always been more comfortable with animals than people. He tries to tell Lucas and Nathan that, but soon gives up when all he gets for his troubles is more licks to the face. 

”I see,” Q says, amused, ”so you’d rather that I kept quiet and petted you? I suppose I can live with that.” 

Nathan makes a small chirping sort of a noise, which makes Q smile. It also seems to be a signal for the others, for soon Q has his hands full with wolves of different sizes and colours, all of them intent on getting attention from him. Q does what he can with only two hands, sinking his fingers into soft undercoats, and mentally wonders how being surrounded by wolves doesn’t make him even a bit wary or uncomfortable. Instead, he rather marvels it, the feeling of having all this power focused on him and not wanting anything more than his touches in return. 

The rest of the evening goes on in similar vein, with some of the wolves always remaining human so that they can actually talk to him. Q gets lots of new information and even more canine affection, and if when he gets home his cats make sure to cover the smell of wolf and their hair on his clothes by rubbing themselves all over him, well, he cannot complain. 

Not even when he writes an email to M to inform him about what happened, or when he realises that he still doesn’t have those groceries that he originally left his flat for.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Bond returns from a mission and gets more handsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! ✨✨✨ I hope that you’ll enjoy this slightly more timely update. It focuses more on Bond and Q this time, though a couple of vampires do make an appearance as well.

**003.**

The next morning, when Q arrives at work and after he has gotten himself a nice cup of tea (Earl Grey, just because he needs the familiarity), R tells him the news from 007. Or, rather, the lack thereof. Bond met over breakfast with a local contact, but that is about it so far. He has asked after Q, though, so Q takes a fortifying sip of his tea and takes over the comms. 

He barely has time to greet Bond and ask about any new developments when the man interrupts him. 

”Something happened last night, didn’t it Q.” Bond says it like it isn’t a question but a statement, instead. 

”And what makes you think that?” Q asks, because really, _how_ does Bond know these things? Especially since he isn’t even _in_ London right now? 

”Call it a hunch,” Bond says. ”You were kidnapped again, weren’t you?”

”Technically I wasn’t,” Q says. ”They asked and I gave my consent.” 

Bond snorts. ”Q dearest, has no one ever told you that when one is kidnapped, one doesn’t generally consent to it?” He pauses for emphasis, and then continues with, ”You did _have_ basic training upon joining Six, right?”

”Don’t be ridiculous, of course I did,” Q replies, just the tiniest bit annoyed. 

”Going by this, you are in serious need of getting up to date in your training,” Bond tells him. ”Don’t worry, though, for I shall personally take care of it once I finish this mission.”

”Thank you for your most generous offer, 007, but that won't be necessary,” Q says dryly. 

“On the contrary, when I return you’ll find that it will most definitely be necessary,” Bond counters, and is the bastard smiling at him, now? Q checks the nearest camera and finds that yes, he certainly is. 

Q sighs, knowing that there is no reasoning with Bond when he is that way. He’ll just have to make his point the next time he sees the man face to face. “All right, moving on,” he says and hopes that Bond will be amenable to the subject change. “Is there anything I can help you with today? Relating to the mission?” 

Bond grins. “Well, there is one thing that I need.”

*

The next four days or so are hectic. Q barely has time to return home to sleep and feed his cats, and he strongly suspects that Bond gets into all the trouble he does just so he can keep Q at the office and in his ear.

When he asks Bond about it on the fourth day, around the end of a rather disastrous car chase (to Bond’s adversaries, not Bond - 007 sounds like he is having a blast, both literally and figuratively), the man doesn’t even have the grace to lie. Instead he admits it, perfectly cheerfully, and all Q can do is sigh and be grateful that at least the data they were after is safely in Bond’s possession. 

If he retaliates by not booking Bond a first class ticket for his flight home, well, it’s not like M will be complaining to him about the money that saves the agency.

*

Next morning, Q finds Bond waiting for him outside his building, looking cool and collected, and he knows what will happen, even without asking.

“Please tell me you have already finished with your debrief,” Q says in lieu of a more customary Good Morning. 

Bond just smiles and opens the car door for him. “On my way to it, actually,” he says. “And since we share the same destination…” 

Q rolls his eyes but gets into the car. “Your kit?” he asks next. “All in one piece, I should hope?”

“Something like that,” Bond replies, which Q interprets as at least half of it being missing or mangled beyond recognition. It says a lot about them both that, while not best pleased, Q simply sighs and accepts it as collateral damage. 

“And the data?”

“Safe and sound,” Bond says. “And how about you? No new kidnappings, consensual or otherwise, since the last time we spoke?”

“No,” Q replies, “unless you count this one right here.”

Bond laughs. “I never said I would be kidnapping you right now, darling, so no, this one doesn’t count.” 

Q doesn’t even blink at the endearment, for it is hardly the first time that Bond has called him darling. “Semantics,” he just says and then makes a point of not looking at the man for the rest of the ride. 

When they reach the garage and Bond makes to follow Q to his branch, Q stops him there and then. “Debrief, 007,” he says firmly. “Afterwards, come down and we’ll see about the state of your kit.”

Bond looks like he’s about to say something, but Q stops him by shaking his head before the man has the chance to do more than open his mouth. “Off you pop, M is waiting,” he reminds Bond, and watches until he reluctantly nods and leaves.

*

Q has managed to not think about Bond for a few blissful hours, so when there is suddenly an arm around his waist, he starts and just barely manages to stop himself from giving himself a concussion by hitting his head against Bond’s. As soon as he realises who the arm belongs to, however, he automatically relaxes. He doesn’t quite lean against the man, but neither does he try and push him away, either.

“Has no one ever taught you about personal space, 007?” he asks flatly and without taking his eyes off the tablet he is holding. 

“Probably,” Bond admits, “but joining Six made me forget all about it.”

“Of course it did.” 

“I’m here as requested, returning my kit,” Bond says then, indicating the case he holds in his other hand. 

“Indeed. If you’ll follow me, I shall take care of it,” Q says. “Without touching me, if you please.” 

Bond chuckles, but obediently lets go of Q and follows him to his office. On his way Q notes that no one pays any attention to them, clearly at least half used to Bond’s antics by now, and feels slightly better. He’d really rather do without any annoying new gossip whenever it can be avoided. 

Q puts the tablet away and turns back to Bond. Wordlessly he holds out his hand and looks at the man, expectant. Bond gives him the case and Q opens it, not really sure what he’ll find, but what he sees wildly exceeds whatever expectations that he has. 

“Um, 007? What exactly am I looking at, here?” 

“Well, Q, this one is obviously the radio,” Bond points at something that could be it if Q squints. He pokes at the remains of the Walther next to it with the tip of his pen and lets out a sigh. 

“Really, Bond, is it too much to ask for you to leave something undamaged or at least in one piece?” he asks, rather forlorn.

“That would depend on the something in question,” Bond replies, and somehow Q has a feeling that he is not talking about the tech. Q shakes his head and tries his best not to think about that right now. 

“And the rest?” 

Bond shrugs and explains what part belongs to which gadget and, more importantly, where the missing pieces ended up, and Q silently mourns the loss of hours of work and dedication. He knew to expect this, or at least something like it, but the fact that the only functional piece left is the earpiece is just sad. 

“All right, that is sorted then. I’ll see what we can salvage,” and the ‘if anything’ is left unsaid but not exactly unexpressed, judging by the way Bond’s expression turns amused. 

“Sure, Q. Anything else you wish to tell me, perhaps?” 

“Many things, actually, but you won’t be listening to me anyway so why bother?” It comes out a touch more depressed than what he would have wanted, but Q has just had to witness the pitiful state of his precious tech so surely he can feel a little discouraged, here?

“I always listen to you, Q,” Bond says, and he even manages to sound sincere. 

“I would like to believe that,” Q says, “but experience has taught me otherwise.” 

“Well, I listen,” Bond amends, “but I may not always follow through.”

Q shakes his head, fond despite himself. “Correct. And then I will be expected to solve all the problems that follow.” 

“But you do it so well,” Bond smiles, proud, and Q rolls his eyes at the blatant flattery. 

“Yes, well, that is what I am paid to do,” he reminds Bond, adding, “which is lucky for you.” 

“Indeed, where would I be without you, my dearest Q?”

“Not here, most likely. Possibly dead, too.” 

”Or in bed with a pretty young thing such as yourself,” Bond says, giving him a look of consideration.

“On that note, I have things to do. And since you have already returned your kit, isn’t there somewhere else you should be right now?” Q looks at Bond, expectantly. 

“No, I believe I am right where I need to be,” Bond replies. 

“Cute, but no,” Q says. “I happen to know that you have not yet made an appearance at Medical. I also know that while you appear to be okay to the naked eye, there are certain injuries that need to be looked at. So off you go.” A pause. “ _Now_ , please.” 

Bond tries to talk his way out of it but Q refuses to budge. If he so wishes, he can outstubborn even a Double-O, so eventually Bond can do nothing but concede defeat. Q’s smile has only a hint of smugness when he watches 007 sigh and nod. 

“All right, I’ll go. I will be back for lunch, though, so I suggest that you decide what you want to eat well before that.” 

“Pizza,” Q says without hesitation. “What? If you’re insisting on lunch together then the least you can do is provide it without any unnecessary comments. I’ve a craving for something hot and cheesy right now.”

”I didn’t say anything,” Bond tries, but Q just raises an eyebrow. 

”You were about to.”

”Well… perhaps. Alright, pizza it is. Shall I bring soda as well?” 

”Yes please,” Q smiles and, almost as an afterthought, right as Bond is reaching for the door, he adds, ”007? I am glad that you brought yourself back in better condition than your kit.” 

”Always,” Bond says, ”for you.” And then he steps out, leaving Q with a curious case of feelings he certainly wasn’t prepared for.

*

Their lunch is followed by a shared ride at the end of the day, and Q doesn’t need to be a genius to understand Bond’s body language: it says, loud and clear, that the man will be his designated driver for the foreseeable future -- at least three weeks according to Medical, who’ve taken him off active duty until his injuries are healed. Q doesn’t seem to have a say in the matter.

So Q does what any intelligent and sensible human would: he invites Bond in for a cup of tea in the hopes of talking about it like reasonable people. Only things are never quite as simple as they first appear, as Q spots two familiar figures standing by his building, clearly waiting for him. 

”Lucien?” he says and blinks. ”Orion? I was not expecting to see you here tonight.” 

Q has met some of the vampires a couple of times after their first meeting, and one of the werewolves (Amber, who came to meet his cats as planned) once already, as well. 

The vampires share a look and turn to him with identical grins. ”We know,” Lucien says.

”We wanted to surprise you,” Orion adds cheerfully.

”Well, you certainly did that,” Q says, his tone somehow managing to be both dry and amused. He then gestures at Bond. ”Oh and um, this is-”

”Bond,” Orion says before Q has time to finish. 

”LaRue,” Bond nods. 

There is a certain tone to their voices that makes Q do a double take, as it is obvious that those three know each other. What is not clear, is exactly how they feel about each other, and Q is both intrigued (for there is bound to be a story or two hidden in there) and annoyed (because Bond also knew about the existence of vampires and did not bother to tell him about it) but - for the time being - hiding it to the best of his ability. 

”All right, then,” he says slowly. ”Um. We were going to go inside and have some tea. Would you like to join us?”

”That would be lovely,” Lucien says and smiles. 

And so all four of them make their way to Q’s flat. It’s a situation so bizarre that Q has half a mind to simply turn and run to get away from it, but then he remembers that he literally invited two vampires and James Bond inside so he really has no one else to blame but himself, and isn’t he an adult and the Quartermaster of MI-6 besides, perfectly capable of handling such a situation? 

Upon opening the door, Q feels instantly better when he sees one of his two cats, Pebble, waiting to greet him. His other cat, Oscar, is most likely still sleeping in his bed so Q is not worried, simply picks Pebble up and nuzzles his face against her silky fur. She makes sure to sniff at his face all over, licking the tip of his nose while she’s at it and making him chuckle, and it is that familiar gesture that grounds him and assures him that everything will be all right.

After a few moments Q puts Pebble down and lets her go and explore. She goes to check out first Bond and then the vampires, sniffing at their fingers and consenting to be petted for a bit. Q looks at it all with a smile, and when she’s done he leads the lot of them to the kitchen. 

”So,” Q says while he puts the kettle on, ”how do you three, um, know each other, then?” 

Bond shares a look with the two vampires that is almost too quick for Q to catch, let alone decipher, half turned away to face the kettle as he is, and the silence is deafening.

“You weren’t honestly expecting me to _not_ ask about it, were you?” Q turns to face them fully and raises an eyebrow. “Surely at least you know me well enough, 007?” 

Bond makes a complicated gesture, something that involves a shrug, a head tilt and the use of his left hand, and remains quiet for exactly twenty more seconds. “Okay, fine, but you can’t blame a bloke for hoping.”

“Hoping for what, exactly?” Q asks, mainly because he knows that it’s expected of him. After all, he does know Bond.

“Really, Bond?” Orion cuts in, and he looks awfully smug. “Well, I suppose I cannot blame you for having great taste,” he then adds. 

“Of course I have great taste,” Bond says, and he sounds almost offended. 

Orion shares a glance with Lucien, and they both grin wide enough to show a hint of their fangs. 

“Of course you do,” Lucien agrees, amused. “As always.”

“Is this conversation actually going anywhere?” Q asks the room at large. 

”Well, you always did like them smart, didn’t you Bond?” Orion comments. ”Just like that time in Paris.” 

”I thought that we agreed to never speak of Paris again,” Bond says mildly.

”Technically we did, yes,” Lucien nods. ”But we weren’t aware of Q then.” 

Bond turns to look at Q. ”Paris was a few years before your time,” he explains, and does he really sound apologetic, now? Yes, he does, Q realises and blinks at the novelty of that. 

”So,” he says, slowly, ”you three met in Paris?”

Orion nods. ”That we did. You see, Lucien and I, we are originally from France, and we have a habit of going back for a visit a few times a year.”

”Yes, and we were visiting grandmère at the time,” Lucien adds.

”And there was also this woman,” continues Orion, grinning. ”A vampire, one not related to us though. Very beautiful, very fierce, and out for blood, she was.”

”Bond’s blood, to be exact,” Lucien clarifies. ”It so happened that your 007 had accidentally,” and here he pauses to glance at Bond and then shrug in a very over-exaggerated way, ”blown up her home. And she was, as one might imagine, absolutely livid.”

Q sighs. ”I am aware of his penchant for blowing things up, yes.” He pauses, considering. ”Though please tell me that no exploding pens were involved, at least?”

Bond looks a mix of amused and embarrassed. ”I’m afraid I can neither confirm nor deny such allegations.”

”Yes, so, anyway, we happened to see the explosion and we got curious so we went to get a closer look, and one thing led to another and so we ended up saving his life,” Orion finishes the tale. ”You’re welcome, by the way.” 

Bond rolls his eyes. ”I have thanked you at least three times already,” he points out. ”Not that I wouldn’t have managed just as well on my own.” 

”We all know that you wouldn’t have, though.” 

”After meeting you two and the others, I find myself agreeing with your assessment of the situation,” Q says before things have time to escalate any further. ”So on behalf of MI-6, thank you for saving our agent.”

”It was our pleasure,” Orion assures him, and Q has a feeling that had Bond not been there, the vampire would have done something ridiculous, like kissing his hand. Bond seems to agree, as he very carefully takes a few steps closer to Q, ending up in between him and the vampires. 

Before Q has time to comment, the kettle whistles, which is his cue to busy himself with adding tea bags to their mugs and pouring the water over them. That, he muses as he fetches milk and sugar, is probably for the best. 

“There is milk and sugar on the table,” he says. “I mean… you _can_ drink tea, can’t you?” 

“Us vampires? Yes, though we do prefer to add some blood to it, instead of milk or sugar,” Lucien replies. 

“And before you get your knickers in a twist, Bond, we did come prepared,” Orion adds and produces a vial filled with dark red liquid from his coat pocket. 

Q blinks. Of course they would add blood to their tea, what was he thinking? “You plan well ahead, I see.”

“Naturally,” Orion nods. 

Once they have all prepared their teas to their liking, Q suggests that they relocate to the living room. The others all agree, so he leads them there and takes a seat on the smaller sofa. He isn’t at all surprised when Bond is the one to sit down next to him, once again disregarding the concept of personal space altogether, and the feeling of the man’s thigh flush against his own is simply a continuation to that. He should probably be glad that there isn’t an arm around him as well, he thinks to himself. 

“You might want to give Q some space to breathe, there,” Lucien suggests from the other sofa, amused. 

“He doesn’t do personal space, apparently,” Q says dryly, then takes a tiny sip of his still hot tea. 

”Mm, yes, I imagine he doesn’t,” says Orion before he, too, takes a sip of his tea. Unlike Q, though, he seems to not care about the heat, as is evidenced by the careless way he swallows the hot liquid and holds onto the mug not from its handle but with his fingers curled around its entirety. Lucien next to him shows only a bit more caution as he puts his mug down onto the sofa table, where both Q’s and Bond’s mugs already are. 

Bond looks at Orion who returns the look with a raised eyebrow, and Q still doesn’t quite know how to read these glances, so he resigns himself to remain not knowing, for now anyway. Instead, he turns his attention to Lucien, though that is hardly helpful as the vampire only smiles serenely at him and says not a thing. 

Q glances around the room to see whether Pebble or Oscar are anywhere in sight, but it looks like both of his darlings have retreated to one of the other rooms, probably to sleep. He gives up on trying to use his cats as a distraction (yes, he has learned from the best, hasn’t he?) and turns his attention back to his guests, all of whom seem to be in the middle of a silent conversation conducted solely by looks and facial expressions. 

Q raises an eyebrow. ”I seem to remember someone telling me that vampires cannot read minds,” he remarks out loud, to no one in particular.

”We can’t, that is correct,” Orion is quick to assure him.

”Funny, to me it certainly looks like you can, and perhaps even more.”

The other three share another of those secretive glances, and Q sighs aloud. ”Fine,” he says, ”don’t tell me.” See if I care, he doesn’t continue in words, because he isn't twelve. Instead, he reaches for his tea and brings the mug to his lips.

”Q, dearest, you aren’t pouting by any chance, are you?” Bond asks him teasingly. 

”Certainly not,” Q replies, though to be safe he keeps his mug covering his mouth for the time being. ”I simply do not appreciate being left out.”

”We didn’t mean to leave you out,” Lucien says. ”We apologise.” 

Q brushes off the apology with a nod and sips his tea. Bond’s warmth next to him feels nice, and when they eventually leave the current topic behind and start to talk about other topics - several of them ending up more suggestive than Q had expected, which in turn make him blush and cause the other three to gently tease him about it - Q keeps paying attention to the interaction between Bond and the vampires to learn as much of their relationship as he can. If they won’t tell him about it, fine, but he can at least observe them and learn things that way. 

He also notices that the vampires like to observe them, in turn. He wonders what they’re seeing, with Bond so close to him and acting so protectively. He makes a mental note to ask them later when Bond isn’t there. 

”Well, Q,” Orion eventually says and smiles, ”it has been lovely to see you again,” and he pauses just long enough to glance knowingly at Bond, ”but I believe it’s time for us to go now.”

”Yes, I believe that you’re quite right,” Bond agrees, and Q sighs and elbows him none too gently to the ribs. 

”Don’t mind him, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut,” he says over Bond’s protests. 

Lucien grins. ”That, or he’s just being possessive.”

”He isn’t, if he knows what’s good for him,” Q only says. 

”Honestly, does he ever though?” Orion laughs, and reaches out his hand to take a hold of Q’s right one. 

Q blinks, but before he has time to react any further Orion has pressed a quick kiss on the back of his hand and is telling him that they’ll be meeting again soon, and that he’ll call Q later. Q can feel Bond tense next to him, and without thinking he puts his free hand on top of the man’s thigh, hoping to stop him from doing anything stupid. 

”I might not take your call, though,” he tells Orion with a shake of his head, but he does sound amused enough that the vampire just laughs. He does let go of his hand, though, which is what Q really wanted. Luckily for him (and Bond’s sanity, though he knows better than to say that out loud), Lucien doesn’t try to emulate his brother, only nods at them both and wishes them a lovely rest of the evening. 

Q returns the sentiment, and then watches as the two vampires leave the room. Only then does he pull his hand away from Bond’s thigh. He is not going to acknowledge having done that or anything else that may have happened during the evening, though; instead, Q plans to confront the man about something much more important, something he has been thinking about ever since he realised that Bond knew the two vampires. 

And when the door closes after Lucien and Orion, Q waits a moment and then turns to face Bond again. “You,” he says with a frown, “could have told me that you knew about vampires!”

”It’s need to know,” Bond replies, as if it’s that simple.

”Well did you not think that maybe I would need to know?” Q demands. ”That maybe information like that is relevant to what I do, too?”

“So these two were the ones who kidnapped you, then?” Bond says, completely ignoring his words. 

“Well, yes, but that is hardly relevant right now. Why didn’t you at least tell me that you knew them?” 

“I was unaware that you did,” Bond answers, as if it’s a perfectly good reason. Well, perhaps it is, but Q is not in the mood to be reasonable. 

“Oh, so there _is_ a limit to what you know, too,” he says, perhaps a bit more biting than strictly necessary. “Good to know that the famous 007 does not know everything after all. I was a little worried that I would have to try and tempt you to join my branch eventually, because for a while there it felt like you could find information that even my minions cannot.” 

“I would, you know,” is all Bond says, “if you asked.”

And just like that, Q’s annoyance at Bond, at being left in the dark, melts away as if it never existed. In its stead it leaves confusion and other feelings that Q certainly did not consent to have. 

“ _How_ do you _do_ that?” Q demands, almost groans, and looks at Bond helplessly. The last thing he needs right now is the answer to that question and anything else that might follow, though, so when Oscar suddenly jumps into his lap he feels grateful for the distraction.

“Good evening, darling,” he says to Oscar, smiling as the cat butts his head against Q’s. “You missed two vampires here, but perhaps that was for the best. There is still someone you can meet, though,” he explains softly, and Oscar actually looks like he is listening to what he says. Q smiles and runs his fingers over his silky fur, and then looks up at Bond. 

Bond is watching the two of them with a fond smile on his lips, and Q has to blink because for a moment there he completely forgot how close Bond was. Oscar gets up, slow and graceful, and makes his way to Bond like the curious kitty that he is. He sniffs at Bond’s fingers and then surprises Q by headbutting him, too, before coming back to Q and settling down on his lap, just so he could start washing his paws. 

“He is adorable,” Bond tells Q. “Just like his owner.” 

Q tries not to blush. “I think that you meant to say sister, but I will forgive you for the mistake this time.” He knows he did not manage to make it sound quite the way he normally would, but he hopes that Bond didn’t notice it. 

Bond, however, grins. “I stand by what I said. Adorable.” And he reaches out a hand to touch Q’s cheek lightly, right before scratching Oscar gently between the ears. 

“Um,” Q says, and he has never felt less eloquent in his life. “I, uh… thank you?” He hates that Bond has the ability to make him sound like _this_ , he really does. 

Oscar gives Bond’s fingers a quick lick and then starts to purr, enjoying the attention, but luckily for Q, Pebble chooses that moment to reappear and jump into Bond’s lap to demand her share of the attention, as Q’s is already taken. They share a quick look and then settle down to pet their respective cats, and whatever was going to be said between the two of them gets postponed again, for now anyway. 

*

Bond ends up staying for dinner, which consists of Chinese takeaway for the humans and fish for the cats. Q makes them some jasmine tea to go with the food, and to his delight Bond expresses instant fondness for the drink. (He has no idea how many times the man has had jasmine tea before, but at least he sounds genuine when he says that he enjoys it.) 

Afterwards, they watch a movie and drink some more tea, and Q feels rather surreal when he realises that he is practically cuddling with Bond on the sofa. The only saving grace, he thinks, is the fact that they both still have a cat on their laps, which prevents them from feeling too awkward - well, at least it is so for Q, as he has never been able to read Bond as poorly as he does right now, and he hates to admit it but he has spent half of the movie thinking about what could have happened had Pebble not come to interrupt them when she did. 

At the time, it had seemed like a blessing, but now Q wonders if it would have been better to have finished whatever it was that had gotten started, there and then. 

Bond lingers for a while even after the movie has ended, indicating at the sleeping Pebble on his lap and how he doesn’t want to wake her up. Q can only melt a little a that, for his cats are his world, and to see Bond get along with them so well, it fills his heart with joy that he cannot quite explain away. 

When Bond eventually leaves, though, he kisses both cats on their heads fondly and then pecks Q on the cheek before wishing him a good night. 

And if Q spends most of the rest of his evening reliving that moment in his head, well, the less Bond hears about _that_ the better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Q spends more time with Bond than is probably wise for his sanity, and Bond gets even more handsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing has been really slow lately, which is why this chapter took almost a month longer than I wanted it to. But the good news is, it got so long that I divided it into two chapters, which means that the next chapter will be here that much sooner. 
> 
> Thank you for my beta and the lovely people at the 00Q Slack for all the help and for suffering through my various questions about things that were (mostly) relevant for the chapter.
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you like this chapter as much as I liked writing it.

**004.**

The next morning finds Q outside waiting for Bond five minutes early. He had slept no more than four or five hours (and had had dreams he really would prefer not to remember), which isn’t exactly the norm for him when he is able to go back home in time, so he is feeling unusually keyed up and also somewhat nervous. That isn’t exactly ordinary for him, either, so he is reduced to pacing and muttering things to himself under his breath. He isn’t sure why he feels the way he does (except that deep inside, he knows that it’s all Bond’s fault - everything is always Bond’s fault unless explicitly stated otherwise, anyway, why would this be any different?) but he detests it nevertheless, and the thought of sitting in a car right next to Bond fills him with tension. He’d choose the Tube over a ride any time, but unfortunately it isn’t like he has a choice in the matter, for M has all but sanctioned Bond’s self-appointment as his chauffeur slash bodyguard, and Q knows better than to try and resist two stubborn men, one of whom is his superior and the other a Double-O.

So when Bond arrives, perfectly on time, Q barely gives him time to park the car before wrenching open the door to the passenger’s side and getting in the car. 

”Good morning, Q dear,” Bond says. ”If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re in a mood.” 

“Not another word from you, 007,” Q says, closing the door and reaching for the seatbelt. 

He glances at Bond once he is done and sees him raise an eyebrow, looking amused, but obligingly the man keeps his mouth shut while turning the car around and starting to head towards their destination. Q blinks and looks at him with clear incredulity, but elects to say nothing in the hopes of preserving the rare peace and quiet that they have found themselves in. 

Well, here’s hoping, anyway, he thinks to himself and busies himself by taking out his mobile and focusing on the small screen instead of thoughts of Bond’s closeness, or how he had kissed him on the cheek not ten hours prior.

Bond manages to keep his silence almost until the end. Q is half impressed at this admirable feat of restraint - one which he was not sure Bond would be capable of, and well, he isn’t at all convinced that this should count anyway, what with the key word being almost - and half annoyed at the break in his concentration for he has been writing an important email on his mobile for the past however many minutes the journey has taken. 

“You okay there, Q?” 

“I would be if someone could resist bothering me all the time.”

“All the time? Isn’t that a bit too unfair?” Bond asks, voice light. 

“No, it isn’t, and you know it,” Q tells Bond without looking at him. 

“We’re here now,” Bond says instead of reacting to his words. 

Q looks up from his mobile and notices that Bond is correct. He pockets the mobile and makes sure that he isn’t forgetting anything while Bond finishes parking the car and turns off the engine. He gets out of the car without waiting for Bond and heads straight to Q Branch, fully aware that the agent is still following him. 

It isn’t until they reach his office that Q decides to confront the man about it. He sheds off his parka and scarf and puts them away neatly, then turns to face Bond again, taking in the way the man stands there looking at him like he has every right to be there.

Well, perhaps an argument could be made that he does, since he kind of is Q’s designated driver and bodyguard for the foreseeable future. 

”What are you even doing here, 007?” Q asks anyway. ”Last I heard you were on medical leave. For three weeks. Since yesterday, if memory serves.”

“I’m here for you,” Bond replies and looks at Q like it’s the obvious answer, the right answer; the one and only answer he could ever dream of giving. “You know this, Q, or did you manage to forget everything since last night?” He blinks and Q can see the first traces of a frown appearing on his forehead. “Or did something happen after I left?”

“What? No, of course not,” Q says and wonders not for the first time just how easily Bond can jump into conclusions that are decidedly wrong. Though, he supposes that the protectiveness and even possessiveness that he has been on the receiving end of for the past weeks - no, better make it months, he remembers well how Bond has been hovering around his branch quite a lot ever since the Skyfall incident - is to blame here. 

Bond doesn’t look convinced yet, though, so Q takes a deep breath and gives in. “Nothing happened, 007. I stayed in with the cats and went to bed. Alone.”

“Well,” Bond says, and now there’s a tiny grin dancing around the edges of his mouth, “if you wanted me to keep your bed warm, you need only ask. I’d have gladly offered you my services for the night.” 

“You presume,” Q says and glares at the man for extra measure. “I’ll have you know that I have very high standards, I won’t accept just anyone into my home, let alone my sofa.”

“And your bed, darling?”

Q rolls his eyes. “Certainly not. Only my cats have access to that.” 

“Really? Good to know what the competition is,” the bastard replies and smiles at him. Q fights the urge to either blush or roll his eyes again, and ends up letting out a small, annoyed huff instead. 

“You’re not quite as irresistible as you think you are, 007,” he tells Bond. 

“Ha! That was not a proper denial, Quartermaster. You’re slipping. It’s a lucky thing that I’m here to catch you, isn’t it?”

“Must you really? I’m sure that having to endure your flirting is not in my job description,” Q remarks and makes the mistake of looking into Bond’s eyes. He regrets it immediately for there’s no way that he can simply look away now, not without revealing something that he'd rather keep hidden from the man. 

“I was under the impression that you didn’t find it such a hardship, before. Was I wrong?”

Q opens his mouth and surprises himself that he’s not even thinking about lying. “You weren’t,” he admits, slow and thoughtful. “Aren’t. Well.” He pauses. “I didn’t sleep very well last night,” he eventually reveals. “That may have affected my mood today. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you, though. My apologies.” 

Bond offers him a small but sincere smile. “No need to apologise, darling. You’re under a lot of pressure, what with all of these kidnappings, benevolent as they have been, and having to trade your freedom for my near constant company. I can understand that.” 

He reaches out a hand to take a hold of Q’s right hand and then brings it up to his lips, a casual but intimate gesture that he does seemingly without noticing it. A gentle kiss is pressed against Q’s fingertips before Bond releases him again. Q blushes and wonders if Bond did it on purpose or whether it was somehow subconscious on his part. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

“Also,” Bond adds, his smile turning mischievous, “I’m always available to help you sleep better.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Q says dryly. “However, like I said, my standards are very high and only my cats have access to my bed. But if you really want to be helpful, you can always fetch me some tea.” 

Bond raises an eyebrow at that. “Fetch you tea, hmm?” 

Q nods. “Yes. As I’m a busy man and don’t always have time to do it myself, and if you decide to keep sticking around, well. You can at least try and make yourself useful.” 

“Of course, darling. Shall I get you some right now?”

“That would be lovely, yes.” 

Bond nods and leaves the office, and Q blinks. That was… unexpected, in a way, he thinks to himself. Not that Bond has never brought him tea before, because he has, several times, but that usually happens when he’s neck deep in a project or in the middle of handling another Double-O and unable to do it himself. 

It takes Bond about five minutes to return with the tea, during which Q has left his office and gone to talk to R. He accepts the mug from Bond with a distracted thanks and takes a sip, finding it made just the way he likes it. Apparently Bond has used his training for something useful for once. 

Bond, he notices, remains standing there, right next to him. Q raises an eyebrow in question, but the only answer he gets is the barest hint of a smile and a shrug. 

“007? Don’t you have anywhere else to be? Home, perhaps? There are no missions lined up for you in the near future, after all.”

“No.” 

“Are you absolutely certain?” 

Bond simply nods without bothering to vocalise his answer, and Q hides a sigh. 

“Wonderful,” he murmurs to himself. “Absolutely wonderful.” Then he makes a conscious decision to fully ignore the man and continue his day as usual, which… goes about as well as one might imagine, really. 

Wherever Q goes, Bond follows. And whatever he does, Bond keeps his eyes on him. Q supposes the man himself would call it watching over him, but to him, it definitely feels closer to being stalked. 

Q finds it rather uncomfortable to have 007 trailing after him when he moves around in his branch, like a somewhat demented and more than a little homicidal duckling hellbent on being his shadow. His very own Double-O shadow. 

Eventually, he reaches his limit. “007! Would you stop doing that!” he snaps as soon as they are both back in the privacy of his office. 

“Stop doing what?” Bond asks, a picture of innocence. 

“Following me around! It’s messing with my ability to fully focus on my work, and I won’t have that,” Q tells him, voice coloured with a hint of annoyance. 

“I thought you’d be used to me by now?” 

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

Bond chuckles. “Well, I am your bodyguard now…” 

Q valiantly resists the urge to rip out his hair. Or Bond’s, as the urge makes no distinction over whose hair it would be. “It isn’t like I need a bodyguard inside MI-6, let alone in my own branch,” he points out, perfectly reasonably. ”Besides, you’re that only because of two instances of kidnappings which weren’t even real kidnappings. Don’t you think that it’s a bit overkill?” 

Bond shakes his head. “Of course not. You’re the Quartermaster, your safety is of utmost importance.”

“How about my ability to actually do my work?” 

“Are you saying that I’m keeping you from working?”

“I’m saying that you following me around is a distraction that I neither want nor need.” 

“I’ve hardly been distracting you yet, darling,” Bond says. “I can, though, if you’d prefer.”

Q takes a deep breath. “007? Some of us really need to work. We cannot all be overly protective field agents just lazing around annoying their coworkers.”

“I’m on a mission, though,” Bond points out. “And my mission is you.” 

”I need more tea,” Q sighs, resigned. ”A lot more tea. Gallons of it, I might even say.”

Bond grins. “I’ll go fetch you some, then, shall I?” 

Q waves a hand. “You do that. At least it should give me a few minutes of peace and quiet.” 

“Whatever you say, dearest Q,” says Bond and leaves the office.

*

When Bond returns with another perfectly brewed cup of tea, Q has made his way back to the main room. He accepts his Scrabble mug with quiet thanks and watches as Bond again takes his place next to him.

“007? What is your stance on bribery?” Q inquires, out of curiosity and because he has a plan. Well, a baby of a plan, to be exact. But surely that is better than nothing, isn’t it?

“Bribery, Q?” Bond repeats, eyebrows raised.

Q nods. “You’re familiar with the concept, I trust?”

“Certainly. I was unaware that it was a part of your repertoire, though.” 

“Well, desperate times and all that,” Q shrugs and takes a sip of his tea.

“I see. What would this bribery consist of, then?” Bond asks. “Would it, by any chance, involve exploding pens?”

Q rolls his eyes. “No, no exploding pens, I’m afraid. But explosions of different scale would be involved.”

“Shame. But do continue.” 

So Q does, and explains how Q Branch has been developing a new series of small everyday items that can be easily hidden on an agent’s person or clothing and that double as explosives. Lately, they’ve been making exploding cufflinks, a design now ready for testing. Would Bond be amenable to help with said testing, perhaps?

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Bond is. And that is how Q manages to get the agent off his back for a couple of hours _and_ to get some useful data out of it. 

Sometimes, Q thinks to himself as he is reading through a dossier relating to an upcoming mission for 002, bribery can be just the thing to use to get wanted results.

*

Q is in his office again, leaning over his desk and working on a set of blueprints he has covering the entire top of his desk. He is so focused on his task that he doesn’t even hear the door opening and closing, nor the footsteps that come closer and stop behind him. Only the soft, “Q?” and a hand touching his back break his concentration and cause him to blink and stand up, perhaps a bit faster than would have been strictly necessary.

When he collides with another body and feels a pair of strong arms come to wrap around his torso, effectively trapping him against the other person, he gasps and tenses. He isn’t sure what is happening and who is holding him, though the confusion only lasts for a handful of seconds. Of course it has to be bloody Bond. 

“007, what is the meaning of this?” he demands. 

“I didn’t want you to lose your balance and fall,” Bond replies, and he sounds amused. 

“So the obvious solution was to grab me?” Q asks. 

“Of course,” Bond says, and Q can feel the words pressed against the skin of his neck, followed by a light but real kiss.

“Bond? What are you doing?” 

“Kissing you.”

“I can feel that. But why?”

“Because I want to.”

And that, Q thinks as the kisses move slowly down his neck, is such a Bond thing to say that surely he cannot be blamed for the slowness of his reaction.

“But… what if l don’t want you to?” he tries, but even he can hear the breathlessness of his own voice, not to mention how much time it took for him to actually get the words out. And if he’s being perfectly honest with himself, he doesn’t want Bond to stop at all. 

Bond pulls his mouth away from his neck nevertheless. “Q? Say no, and I will stop.” 

However, before Q has time to say anything, there is a knock on the door and R’s voice calling out his name. She sounds anxious, and Q knows that she wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t important. 

“Come in,” he says and feels Bond pull away. By the time the door opens there’s a respectable distance between the two of them, and Q can only miss the warmth of Bond’s body against his. 

R doesn’t come in, though she does spare a quick glance at Bond. “It’s 009,” she says, and Q understands immediately. 

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he tells her. She nods and leaves without closing the door again. 

Q turns back to his blueprints and wonders if he’ll have time to return to them any time soon. Probably not, as 009’s mission can be expected to turn critical at any given time. In a fit of optimism, though, he decides to leave them as they are. 

“Why don’t you go to the gym or the shooting range, for now, 007?” he asks Bond. “Things are bound to get busy within the next half an hour or so and I won’t have time to entertain you any further.”

Bond nods without reacting to his choice of words and Q finds it a pleasant surprise. “I’ll come back later to see how you are,” he says. 

“I shall see you later, then,” Q tells Bond, and they leave his office together. Bond heads for the exit while Q makes his way to the main room. He has R give him a thorough status update before taking over and bringing his full focus on 009 and his mission.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Q is embarrassed and Bond is Bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is the next chapter as promised. Though I am rather slow at editing, it seems, otherwise you could have gotten it sooner. Oh well, I hope that you’ll enjoy it nevertheless. :) 
> 
> And again, lots of thanks to my beta as well as the lovely people in the 00Q Slack who helped me when I was getting unsure about certain parts (like the flashback scene) of this chapter.

**005.**

The next time Q becomes aware of where he is, he finds himself in his own bed surrounded by his sleeping cats. He isn’t sure how he got there or what day it is, even, but he remembers…

_— —_

_“Go home, 007,” Q said, absently rubbing at his eyes. “At least one of us ought to get some sleep tonight.” He wasn’t really expecting a miracle, though, so he blinked in surprise when all Bond did was nod and tell him that he’d see him again in the morning. He watched the agent leave the branch and decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth, then refocused his attention to 009’s mission again._

_Three days (give or take a few hours) later, once he had made sure that the evacuation team had made contact with 009 and that the agent’s injuries were being seen to, Q signaled for R to take over the comms and glanced around the room. He could see no sign of Bond anywhere, which was both a relief and a disappointment (not that he’d ever admit that to anyone out loud), so he decided to go back to his office for a bit. He felt shaky in a way that he knew to associate with sleep deprivation, but since Bond was still acting as his designated driver, he didn’t think it wise to wander out of Q Branch to acquire alternative transportation for himself. Indeed, while he waited for Bond to make an appearance, surely he could dedicate some time and attention to his poor, neglected blueprints?_

_Q closed the door of his office to ensure some privacy for himself. Although perhaps his hope of making Bond think that he had already left, vain as it may have been (for he wasn’t exactly keen on presenting his ruffled state of dress and tired face, courtesy of his having just handled a difficult mission spanning over several days, to the ever immaculately dressed 007), did play a role in there, as well. Not that he expected it to work for real… He let out a tired sigh and made his way over to his desk, whereupon he sat down at his comfortable chair and stared at the designs without really seeing anything. Closing his eyes and leaning his head against his arms, he murmured to himself, “I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute, that’s all...”_

_— —_

_”Q? - - there?”_

_Q stirred, but wasn’t sure what was happening. He thought that the voice was a part of his dream, so he didn’t pay any more attention to it and tried his best to sink back into the dream. The hand on his shoulder, however, managed to drag his attention away from his mind and back into reality._

_”- - asleep - - chance - - you?”_

_Q murmured something unintelligible and thought that the voice sounded awfully familiar. Was it Bond? It must have been Bond, who else would come to his office uninvited like that? Q frowned, not quite awake but no longer fully asleep either, and tried to remember what was going on._

_“Q? Time to go home and sleep, darling,” Bond said, amusement clear in his voice. Q, however, barely opened his eyes, even when he could feel Bond wrapping his arms around his body and pulling him up into a half standing, half leaning position. “Q? Put your arms around my neck, yes, just like that… now hold on tight,” was being said against the shell of his ear, and Q could only assume that he had managed to follow those instructions as the next thing he could feel was the cool glass of the passenger side window of Bond’s car against his cheek._

_Bond’s question of “Where do you keep your keys?” woke Q up just enough to mumble some incomprehensible words as a reply. Apparently Bond was at least adequate at interpreting barely awake Quartermasters, though, as he had somehow managed to get Q inside and into his bedroom. Bond sat him down on the side of the bed long enough to take off his shoes and trousers and help him out of the cardigan he was only somewhat aware of wearing anymore, then removed his glasses and assisted him in lying down and getting underneath the duvet. His cats were then picked up, one by one, and placed on the bed next to Q’s curled body._

_If he strained his ears, Q could hear someone - presumably Bond - move around in the room. He wanted to open his eyes and verify it, but his eyelids felt like they weighed a ton and the act of moving any of his limbs felt like an accomplishment he simply didn’t have the energy for. So instead he tried his best to listen to Bond’s faint footsteps, which grew even fainter as Bond left the room. Some time later, just as he was about to fall asleep fully, Bond returned and made his way next to his bed. Q could hear the rustle of paper, a quiet sound of something being placed on his bedside table, and then there was a light touch of something soft on his forehead. Again, he heard Bond pad to the doorway and leave._

_— —_

Q looks up at the familiar ceiling and groans, flushing at the memories. He’ll never be able to live this down!

Eventually, he decides that wallowing in shame accomplishes absolutely nothing and that he probably ought to at least get some food into himself, since the last time he remembers eating anything is… well, he knows that he had a sandwich at some point, but that’s about it. 

So Q sits up, careful not to jostle the cats, and reaches for his glasses from the bedside table. He also finds a handwritten note, which must be from Bond. He flushes again from the reminder of what had happened and then reads the note.

 **Good morning Q,  
** **Or should I say afternoon? Perhaps even evening? You’ve been awake for over 70 hours, so I will be very disappointed if I catch wind of you even thinking about returning to work before next week. M’s orders, darling, so no need to try (and fail) to shoot the messenger. All you need to do right now is rest, eat, and relax; I’ll come pick you up again bright and early on Monday morning.  
** **Love,  
** **James  
**P.S. My offer still stands, so don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.****

********

********

Q blinks and stares at the note he’s holding. It is not quite what he expected, though to be honest, he isn’t perfectly clear on what exactly he did expect. Perhaps more innuendo? Still, at least it answers some of the questions he’s had, which is always a plus. 

Q puts the note back down on the table and stretches lightly. His stomach rumbles, which reminds him that his first order of business is to find some food for both himself and his cats. He tries to recall if he still has eggs and bacon left, but the details of the last few days are still rather fuzzy. Hoping for the best, Q gets out of bed, managing to do it without waking up the cats, and heads to the bathroom to freshen up before breakfast; he’ll leave the shower and the shave for afterwards, though, he quickly decides. 

Once he has finished his business in the bathroom, Q returns to the bedroom to pick up a pair of pyjama bottoms to ward off the chill of the flat. Then he heads straight to the kitchen and takes stock of the fridge. Luckily he has both eggs and bacon, and even the bread still looks edible; he also unearths two almost overripe tomatoes and an apple that has seen better days from the pantry. Breakfast now sorted, Q puts the kettle on and sets to work. 

By the time Q has finished plating his meal, Pebble makes an appearance. Her light meow is followed by Oscar’s more demanding one and Q chuckles as he leans down to pet his darlings. 

“All right, all right, you two,” he says fondly. “You’ll get your food as well, but I do need the use of my hands for that.” 

Oscar perks up at the familiar word and eagerly makes his way to the food bowls. Pebble, however, doesn’t seem interested in losing Q’s affection quite yet, which gives him no other choice than to pick her up and carry her in his arms to the cupboard where he keeps their dry food. He sets her down on the counter long enough to grab the bag, then picks her back up and goes to pour the food on their bowls. Pebble licks his cheek lightly, and Q smiles as he presses a gentle kiss on the top of her head before putting her down again. 

Cats now fed, Q returns to the table and finally gets to start on his own breakfast. He is even hungrier than he’d expected, so it doesn’t take him long to finish the whole meal, including the pot of tea. That done, he makes sure to clean up the dishes before finally heading for the shower.

*

Freshly showered, shaved and feeling a lot more like a fully functioning human being again, Q emerges from the bathroom about twenty minutes later. He goes to the bedroom to get dressed and sees Oscar sleeping on his pillow, who shows no signs of waking up. Q just smiles fondly and pulls on a pair of jeans and a jumper from the wardrobe, then returns to the bathroom to deal with his hair. He doesn’t bother with blow drying it or anything, just runs a comb through it and that’s it.

Once done, Q goes to check his mobile. He has no new messages, which is sort of a surprise - he had been half expecting to hear from Bond - but it isn’t a bad kind of a surprise. At least now he doesn’t need to think about the whole embarrassing situation quite yet. 

Next, Q checks the whereabouts of Pebble and finds her sitting on the smaller sofa, in the middle of washing her tail. He tells her that he's going out and that he will be back later, and gently kisses the top of her head. After all, he still needs to go grocery shopping, and sorting out his lunch (either by stopping at a café while he’s out there or picking up something on his way back) wouldn’t be a bad idea either. 

So he leaves his flat and spends the next three hours pleasantly distracted by a solitary tour at the British Museum, followed by a nice lunch at the Pompidou Cafe near King’s Cross. On his way back home, Q stops by the grocery store and takes care of stocking up his food supplies by buying absolutely everything that catches his eye and decidedly not feeling bad about his little grocery shopping spree, not even when the heavy bags hit against his legs every other step and he’s sure he’ll have bruises by the time he reaches his flat. 

When he is home again, Q puts the kettle on and uses the wait time to put away his groceries. Once he has a steaming cup of tea in front of him, he makes his way to the living room and turns on the telly. He watches a film about a pair of vampire lovers who have lived apart from each other for a while but who end up back together again, and afterwards devotes an hour to playing with Pebble and Oscar before fixing dinner for both himself and the cats. 

He spends the rest of the evening rereading Lord of the Rings for the nth time, and retires to bed well before midnight.

*

Next morning, Q wakes up to a message on his mobile and Oscar’s tail tickling his nose. He gently pushes the tail away from his face and reaches for his mobile. The message is not from Bond but from Nathan, and it’s an invitation to meet him and a few other werewolves at the park around noon. Q doesn’t hesitate but sends a quick reply with his agreement and then puts the mobile away again.

He has more than enough time for a proper breakfast and some quality time with his darlings, so he takes his time getting out of bed, stretching and indulging in some vague daydreams about a nameless, faceless boyfriend that he could have had if only he didn’t have the job that he does.

Well, perhaps there is a tiny chance that he still could, he thinks once his thoughts - inevitably - turn to Bond, and before he even realises it, the boyfriend in his daydreams acquires a pair of familiar blue eyes. 

As soon as that happens, however, Q resolutely makes himself get up and out of bed. He pushes the daydreams out of his mind and goes to start his day instead. 

After a long and luxurious breakfast that resembles a brunch rather than a simple morning meal followed by an hour spent cuddling and playing with his cats, Q makes his way to the park. He spots Nathan right away, standing there with two of the women he remembers from his meeting with the werewolves. Lucas, however, he doesn’t see - not until he walks closer to the werewolves and realises that Lucas is there, after all, only he is in his wolf form, along with two other women. 

”Hello Q,” Nathan smiles and gives a small wave. 

”Hello Nathan,” Q replies. ”Hello Amber and Gabrielle.” He glances at the three wolves and smiles. ”And hello to you too.” 

Lucas lets out a soft whine and all but runs to him, nudges him with his snout and licks his exposed fingers as if he is just an excited puppy. Q chuckles and obligingly leans down to pet him. He thinks that he should have expected this - the werewolves’ wolf forms are perfect for disguising themselves as normal dogs. 

”I take it that this is something that you do often?” Q asks Nathan, all the while scratching Lucas behind his ears. 

Nathan nods. ”Yes. We take turns, obviously, as coming to the city without a leash and a human companion would not be wise.”

It is only then that Q consciously realises that the wolves are all collared and leashed. He wonders for a moment if it isn’t at all uncomfortable for them, but then decides that it isn’t his place to ask. ”I see,” he says. 

”It’s also nice to spend some time with the dogs here,” Amber adds cheerfully. 

The other two wolves, previously sedately laying on the ground next to the women, perk up at that. They get up to come and say hello to Q, then glance at the other werewolves. Gabrielle and Amber unclip their leashes and allow them to go and play with the dogs that are running around in the park. Lucas, however, doesn’t budge from where he is leaning against Q’s legs and enjoying the petting. He’s a little heavy, but Q isn’t going to complain, not when he actually likes the feeling.

”So how are you, Q?” Gabrielle asks. ”Have you already kissed your agent?”

Q blinks. ”I’m fine, thank you,” he says, ”and no, I have not done anything of the sort.” The fact that Bond did, in fact, kiss his neck just a couple of days ago he leaves unmentioned. ”Besides,” Q cannot but point out, ”he is not _my_ agent.” 

”Pity,” Gabrielle shakes her head. ”Well then, if you aren’t going to do anything about it, would you mind if I did?” she continues. ”I find him quite handsome.” 

Q frowns. ”Um. No?” And he tells himself that he means it, too, for there really isn’t anything going on between him and Bond. Truly.

Amber smiles at that. ”You’re not a very good liar, are you?” 

”He certainly isn’t,” Gabrielle agrees, looking amused and not at all disappointed. Q has a feeling that she had asked just so she could tease him about his feelings for Bond. 

”I’m not lying though,” he tells them anyway. 

”Sure you’re not,” says Gabrielle and tosses her braid over one shoulder. She shares a look with Amber, and they both chuckle. 

Q looks at Nathan, who shrugs and smiles, and then down at Lucas who blinks at him and licks at his wrist, which tickles. He decides to let it go. 

”You’re not going to go and play with the dogs, are you?” Q asks Lucas, who yips and nuzzles closer to his body. ”I take that as a no, then, shall I?” he says, smiling, and gets a tongue to the face for his troubles. 

”He likes you,” Nathan comments. ”Well, we all do.” 

”I can see that,” Q says, but he has nothing against the affection. He is perfectly happy to just stand there and pet Lucas while chatting with the other werewolves, and so that is exactly what happens for the next handful of hours. The other two women spend that time in their wolf forms, playing with whichever dogs there are at the park, and only return when it’s time to leave. 

”Would you like to come and meet my cats and have lunch with me?” Q offers, because he can and he likes the company. 

”That would be nice, yes,” Nathan replies. 

”Thank you for the invitation,” says Amber, however, ”but unfortunately we didn’t come prepared.”

”Prepared?” Q repeats, though he has a feeling that he knows what she means.

Gabrielle grins. ”When we change forms, we aren’t exactly decent.” 

”Don’t worry, Q,” Nathan says and gestures at the bag he has over one shoulder. ”I do have clothes for Lucas.” 

”Something tells me you were expecting an invitation from Q,” Amber says teasingly. 

Nathan says nothing to that, just shrugs and smiles.

”Well, I suppose that’s that, then,” Q says. He says his goodbyes to Gabrielle and Amber, pets the other two wolves, and tells them that he’s looking forward to seeing them again later. Then, he finally leaves the park with Nathan who has Lucas on a leash, heading towards his flat. 

On the way they decide to order takeaway for lunch, so no detours are necessary. Instead, Q lets the werewolves into his flat and, as Lucas wants to remain in wolf form for the time being, takes over the introduction between the wolf and his cats while Nathan sits by and watches. Luckily though, both Pebble and Oscar are more interested in climbing all over the new and exiting creature in their habitat than showing any fear or aggression towards him, so the whole ordeal is really very simple and straightforward. Q cannot resist taking photos of the big wolf laying on the ground with Pebble delicately washing her face on her perch on top of his back and Oscar curled up in between his big paws, because the view is absolutely adorable. 

”You make me want to get a dog companion for Pebble and Oscar,” Q tells Lucas after putting his mobile down again. 

Nathan smiles. ”If they like him as a wolf, I’m sure that they’d adore a dog.” 

Q doesn’t have time to say anything to that, however, as there is suddenly a firm knock on the door. He blinks, but gets up and makes his way to the door to seem who it is. He is not surprised at all when he sees that it is Bond, because of course it is. It isn’t like the man isn’t always there when he doesn’t need to be, anyway. Q takes a few seconds to debate whether not opening the door would be a good idea, but abandons the thought almost immediately. Bond would just break into his flat if he didn’t at least open the door, that he knows. So he sighs and disengages the locks. 

”007,” he acknowledges the man standing there by his door. ”To what do I owe the pleasure?”

”I was around the area, so I thought to stop by to see how you are,” Bond responds. ”I see that you have been sleeping more, at least.”

”Indeed I have,” Q nods. ”I have also been eating. In fact, we were just about to order lunch.” 

”You have company?” Bond asks, but he doesn’t sound at all surprised by the fact. Q has a feeling that Bond knows exactly who he’s with and where they have been, damned spy that he is. He is also sure that Bond is aware of _what_ they are. 

”Yes. If you’re not in a hurry though, you could join us if you’d like?”

”I’m not in a hurry, no.” 

Q opens the door further and lets Bond in. He closes the door and deals with the locks while Bond gets rid of his outer layers. Afterwards he leads the man to the living room, where Nathan is sitting on the bigger sofa and Lucas is still on the floor with the cats. 

”I’d introduce you,” Q says, ”but I have a feeling that you all know each other already.” 

”Good afternoon, Bond,” says Nathan, proving his point. 

”Crane,” Bond says with a nod. ”Black,” he continues and looks at the wolf with what Q privately thinks is a surprising amount of petulance. 

”As I just told you, we were going to order lunch next,” Q says as he goes to sit down on the smaller sofa. Predictably, Bond sits down next to him, exactly like he did the previous time with the vampires. ”You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” 

Bond shakes his head, subtly pressing even closer to Q’s side. 

”All right,” Q says and takes out his mobile. ”I’ll order for us all, then, shall I?” 

And while he dials the Chinese restaurant they’ve chosen and places their order, not even asking for Bond’s opinion as he remembers what the agent likes from previous shared meals, Bond casually puts an arm around his shoulders. Q ends the call and glances at Nathan and Lucas then at the man by his side, and he doesn’t need to think especially hard to understand that Bond is staking a claim. He lets out a soft sigh but doesn’t bother pushing the arm away or reacting in any other manner. 

But if Bond thinks that he can get away with it without a conversation at some point in the evening, well, he can bloody well think again. 

“How long have you three known each other?” Q asks, directing his inquiry mostly at Nathan as Lucas is still entertaining his darlings in his wolf form and Bond seems more interested in playing with his Quartermaster's hair than listening to his words. Q just hopes that the shivers those touches elicit in him aren’t as noticeable than he fears. 

“A couple of years, I believe,” Nathan replies easily. “Maybe even three or four. We met during one of Bond’s missions, actually.” 

“I see,” Q says. He had already guessed it, though he supposes another possible explanation could have been an introduction via the previous M, since she had definitely been aware of the existence of both the werewolves and the vampires. 

“And we were instrumental in his returning home in one piece, too,” Nathan grins. 

“Now that one’s a lie,” Bond comments absently. Clearly, most of his attention is focused on the way his fingers are sliding through Q’s curls, and he is only partially aware of the conversation they’re having. Q blinks as he realises that this is the very first time Bond is touching his hair. 

“You were only fractionally useful,” he adds.

“Are all the blows to the head affecting your memory, or is old age already getting to you?” Nathan raises his eyebrows questioningly. “Because the way we remember it, you would have been in some serious trouble without us there.” 

“I’d have survived just as well with or without you,” Bond counters. 

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” Nathan shakes his head, amused. 

“All right, children, let’s not squabble over who has the better memory,” Q says. “If you’ll tell me the exact date I can surely check the mission log and resolve this issue once and for all.” 

“Best not, darling, we wouldn’t want to embarrass your guests, now would we?” Bond says, and Q flushes at the easy way the endearment slips past his lips. The look Nathan gives him does nothing but deepen his blush, and he can only be glad that Lucas doesn’t currently have the ability for speech at his disposal. 

“Embarrass you in front of your Quartermaster, Bond, more likely,” says Nathan, but he doesn’t seem to be anything other than amused, so Q decides to try to change the subject. 

It turns out that he doesn’t need to, as Pebble chooses that moment to relinquish her perch on Lucas’ back and make her way over to Nathan instead. She jumps up to his lap without preamble and makes herself comfortable there, nudging his hands with her face to demand attention from him. Nathan smiles, delighted, and starts to pet her, which in turn makes her purr. 

Q watches it all unfold and smiles, because it seems like his cats have absolutely nothing against having werewolves in the flat. Perhaps that means that he will be able to invite more of them in his home than just the one or two at a time he has done so far. At least he can hope so, as so far neither Pebble nor Oscar have shown any fear towards Lucas’s wolf form. Of course, one can only wonder how the cats might feel once they are outnumbered by the wolves, but that is something that Q will tackle if and when it is needed. 

As if jealous of the attention Pebble is getting, Oscar claims Bond’s lap. That frees Lucas up from his duty of entertaining the cats, and the wolf gets up and makes his way to Q. He leans heavily against Q’s legs, expecting to be petted, and Q easily gives into the wordless demand by leaning down and sinking his fingers into the soft fur. The action causes Bond’s arm to fall down to the small of his back, but Q does his best to ignore it in favour of focusing his attention on Lucas. 

For some time, no one says anything, just concentrates on petting their respective animals. Pebble and Oscar enjoy the attention, their purring loud as ever, and even Lucas lets out happy little whines every now and then. Q shares a look with Nathan, though he deliberately doesn’t look at Bond. The man’s palm on his lower back is a warm, comfortable weight, and Q knows that he’d only blush again if he looked at Bond right now. 

That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like the feeling, no; just that he isn’t sure how to react to it.

Eventually, they start to chat together again, about mundane topics such as the weather and the best restaurants near Q’s flat. The atmosphere is easy and more relaxed, and by the time their food arrives Q feels a lot more confident about the situation. He tells Lucas that if he prefers to change into his human form for lunch now would be an excellent time to do so, right before he gets up from the sofa and goes to the door to get the food. 

Q takes the food to the kitchen and deposits it on the table. He gets out some extra utensils and the glassware, and then calls for the others to join him, having decided that the kitchen is probably a safer location for eating than his living room. He takes his place on the table when the others arrive, Lucas now in human form and thankfully adequately clothed, and says nothing when Bond sits down next to him again. 

He does, however, steal one of Bond’s spring rolls simply because he can. The agent fondly calls him a thief, but ends up feeding him another spring roll not five minutes later. 

Q eats it because it’s delicious, and because, much as he doesn’t want to admit it to anyone else, he has gotten used to Bond feeding him tidbits. Just to give him a taste of whatever it is that he has chosen at the time, naturally. 

“You two are too cute together,” Lucas remarks, an amused smile on his lips. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Q tells him, but he deliberately doesn’t look at Bond. Bond simply moves even closer to him, and Q can but wonder if the man means to keep invading his personal space at all times, now.

Nathan chuckles. “Of course you don’t, Q.” 

“Just eat your food, you two,” says Q to that and then stuffs his mouth full of Kung Pao chicken so that no one can expect him to say anything else. 

“So Bond,” Lucas says conversationally, “is there something you would like to tell us, maybe?”

Bond shrugs. “Other than that Q is mine? Not really, no.” 

Q blinks and hastily swallows his mouthful of chicken. He did not expect to hear that, though he possibly should have. “Excuse me? I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with your possessiveness, 007.” Although in reality he finds that he is less against being the focus of such an emotion than he expected. Curious, that. Or perhaps it’s because it’s Bond. 

“I’d call it protectiveness rather than possessiveness,” Bond says. 

“What is it that I need to be protected from, exactly?” Q asks, honestly curious.

Bond tilts his head and looks at Q like he thinks he’s being silly now. “Kidnapping, Q. Among other things.” 

“Been there, done that, there’s no need to do it again,” Lucas comments, clearly amused. Bond shoots him a glare and Q sighs. 

“Yes, well, Lucas is correct. All of that is over and done with, and I don’t expect anything like it to happen to me again. So while I appreciate the sentiment, Bond, there’s really no need for you to concern yourself with my safety any more than necessary.” 

“What if I want to?” 

And that simple question, Q thinks to himself even as he eats some more of his chicken and rice purely as a means of stalling, coupled with the way Bond looks at him, like he is being completely honest and wants nothing more than to be there and take care of Q, is why he has no idea how to react to it.

But because he’d rather not have that particular conversation right now, with Lucas and Nathan around, he makes a conscious effort to change the subject. (He does give Bond a look, though, to make sure that the man knows the conversation is merely being delayed, not forgotten.) 

He does realise that they seem to be delaying the conversation an awful lot lately, but there’s nothing to be done about that right now, so he does his best to let it go and find something else to focus on.

“Um… so, I was wondering if you prefer your wolf form to your human one, Lucas?” Q asks, because it is genuinely something that he is curious about. 

Lucas looks at him, his gaze thoughtful. “I suppose I like both equally,” he replies. “But I do enjoy being a wolf when I can. People often give affection to animals more freely than to each other, I’ve noticed.”

Q nods slowly. “And you, Nathan?” 

“I agree with Lucas,” Nathan says. “Also, there is something very freeing in being able to forget all about the human norms and customs and allow ourselves to behave in ways that would normally be frowned upon. That is one of the best things about being a wolf.” 

“You make it sound like such a shame that we all don’t have wolf forms,” Q says, and perhaps he sounds a little bit too wistful because there is suddenly an arm around his upper body, and when he glances at Bond the agent is frowning as he looks at Nathan and Lucas. It takes Q only a few seconds to realise what is going on, and when he does he decides to treat Bond like one of his cats and quietly lets his free hand get tangled with Bond’s. 

Nathan and Lucas look at them and share a glance, but afterwards they all go back to eating their food and chatting about random things. Q can feel Bond’s fingers gently stroke his, and he cannot deny that he likes those simple touches a lot. He doesn’t even mind that Nathan and Lucas are there and can see everything, although he is ever aware of the fact that the discussion between himself and Bond needs to happen sooner rather than later. But right now, he is happy to just sit there and eat one-handedly while having a pleasant conversation with his guests.

Once they’re all done, Q gets up to bin the rubbish and move the dishes to the sink. Bond helps him with it, which he did not expect but finds a nice gesture nevertheless, and together they make tea. Although Bond has barely spent any time in his kitchen, he seems to know where everything is, and Q wonders whether it’s because he has paid attention before or if it’s just a string of lucky guesses. 

When they all have a steaming mug of tea in front of them, prepared according to their personal preferences, Q leads them back to the living room. They all take their previous positions, and when Bond’s arm comes around him again Q takes a sip of his tea and relaxes against him. The cats are nowhere to be seen - most likely having retreated to his bedroom to sleep - which means that no one is on petting duty and that Q cannot use them as distractions, should the need arise. 

He hopes that no such need arises, of course, but one never knows with James Bond. 

“Have you read any interesting books about laser guided weapons lately?” asks Nathan, in continuation of their conversation in the kitchen, and just like that, they continue to playfully argue about the merits of stealth versus accuracy. 

Some time after his tea is finished and the conversation has moved on, Q finds himself leaning more fully against Bond. Bond’s fingers on his hair never stop moving; instead he encourages Q to rest his head against his chest, so Q does. 

Bond is warm and smells nice, and Q thinks to himself that he could get used to spending his evenings like this. That in itself is a dangerous thought, no matter how many times Bond has expressed interest in his Quartermaster. But as long as nothing is explicitly communicated and agreed upon between them, Q knows that he’d do well to be careful. 

“Are you sure you two are not together?” Lucas asks, and that is enough to bring Q back from his thoughts. He blinks but doesn’t have the time to react before Bond places a gentle kiss on the top of his head. 

“I believe we’re getting there,” Bond simply says. 

The two werewolves smile at that, and then go back to the previous topic of conversation like nothing happened. Q, who is starting to get the tiniest bit of sleepy now that he is so relaxed and still pleasantly full from lunch, makes no effort to return to the abandoned topic of himself and Bond and instead lets their voices wash over him, participating in the conversation when it’s expected of him but otherwise content to just listen. 

Q finds that if he listens hard enough, he can hear the steady sound of Bond’s heartbeat underneath it all; and he thinks that he really ought to tell the man how much he enjoys this closeness between the two of them, but he is not ready to do so quite this minute. Soon, though, he will, he decides as he tips his head up just enough to catch Bond’s eyes and sees the fondness there.


End file.
